Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina!

I promised myself I wouldn’t do it, but I did it anyway.  I made that stupid sound.  You know the sound.  The one people make right before they think another car is going to hit theirs.  The sound they make before they drop several stories on a roller coaster.  The sound they make before a small child goes down a slide for the first time.

As I tightly hugged my eldest son yesterday, that annoying sound escaped my inner being.  He was leaving for a six-week study abroad program in Argentina and… he was leaving without me. 

I would like to tell you that I patted his back and cheerfully exclaimed, “Have a great time!  See you later!”  And though I did speak pleasant words to the boy, on the inside I was pleading, “Always travel with a friend…don’t go anywhere unsavory looking…don’t talk to strangers…say your prayers…Skype me everyday...be careful…be careful…come back to me…be careful…”

If you’re a human over the age of three, you’ve quite possibly made some form of the “sound” yourself at one time or another.  And regardless of a faith history you may have with the Creator, you probably still battle worry more than you care to admit. 

And it’s not just moms who worry.  Or even women in general.  In this economy, men are fretting more than ever about job security, financial provision for their families…the list goes on.  I teach in a public school, and I’m saddened by the worry I see even very young people saddled with. Worry is everywhere…eager to distract us and, if at all possible, render us useless.

My husband is constantly reminding me that worry is just the result of a deeper issue…lack of trust.  I hate when he’s right like that.  But, it’s so true.  I do have a faith history with my Creator, and I know He loves and cares for my South American-bound boy even more than I ever could.  But, still…

Sigh. I already have to buy two boxes of color each time I want to cover the gray in my hair.  I can’t afford the number of grays requiring three. 

Still, as long as there are cars, roller coasters, slides and children who have the nerve to grow up and get a life of his or her own…that sound is going to be waiting in the wings.

And to keep it in the wings and out of my lungs as much as possible, I try to remember this: “People with their minds set on you, you keep completely whole, steady on their feet, because they keep at it and don’t quit.  Depend on God and keep at it because in the Lord God you have a sure thing.”  Isaiah 26:3-4 MSG

I have to “keep at it.”  I have to intentionally keep at trusting in the God I know is a sure thing. We all do.

What helps you “keep at it?” Feel free to share, because the more encouragement spoken in our caves, the better. 

www.diaryofacavewoman.com

Time-Outs: Not Just for Toddlers!

Most remember their first introduction to the term “time-out.”  And it wasn’t at a sporting event.  Unless you call putting gum in another’s hair a sport.  I actually can’t speak from childhood experience here, as my folks weren’t ones to waste energy touring “Time-Out Island” on their way to visit “Spanking Mountain.” 

However, as a parent, I used time-out some with my boys.  It worked with Child Number 3, who would rather see his fingernails pulled off than miss any outdoor activity…including putting gum in another’s hair.  But, Child Number 1…well, let’s just say that when I finally remembered he was in time-out an hour after I had stuck him there for “just 10 minutes,” he was well into Act III of “Finger People Go to the Zoo.”  He asked if he could stay in “time-out” just a little bit longer.  You know, to finish the show, allow for curtain calls and such.  I obviously had to come up with another form of consequence for that child. 

Lately, I’ve been pondering other kinds of time-outs we humans may experience in our existence. Like, when we’re trying to finish college so we can get on with “real” life.  When we’re losing a job and anxiously wondering when the next one will come along.  How about waiting for Mr. or Mrs. Right?  Big time-out for some, I know.  And there’s being patient for that child we may be longing for.  Or, maybe even feeling sidelined by the children we do have…like life is on hold until they get “bigger.” 

I’ve been in sort of a time-out myself for the past several months. Reevaluating my priorities and what I really want to spend my days accomplishing.  Taking the time to appreciate my family, and then taking the time to make sure they know I love them more than the other things that constantly vie for my affections. My time-out also caused me to take a break from sharing via blogger-land some of the cool truths God encourages me with here in my home.  The home I laughingly and lovingly refer to as my “cave.”  

Well, the whistle has been blown and this time-out for me is over.  And while I’m thankful to get back in the game, chewing gum and blogging…it was truly a good break.  One that made me realize my passion has never been stronger for encouraging others to see these things we call “time-outs” as quite often blessings in disguise.  Times to realize…or maybe just remember…who we are and what we should be doing.

Much like the outcome we expect when we stick a toddler in the corner of a room.

www.diaryofacavewoman.com

What I Can't Remember

It's amazing what we can remember.  And what we can't.

Like, I can remember my 5th grade teacher's birthday - October 3rd - every year.  Since 5th grade.  Just to bring everyone up to date, I haven't been in the 5th grade since 1978.  I can't remember if I locked my car tonight or not. Just to bring everyone up to date, I haven't been in my car in like, I don't know, five minutes?

I can remember most of "...In Flanders Field the poppies blow..." from the 7th grade (you can now do the math to figure out the last time I was in 7th grade - as a student, that is.)  I can't remember any of my sons' current cell phone numbers without looking them up.

I can remember the smell of my grandma - Noxema and roses - and she's been in Heaven since 1981.  I can't remember if I just took the Tylenol I was thinking about taking or not.  (Don't worry, I won't overmedicate!)

I can remember what I was wearing that June day in 1987 when I met my husband - the infamous University of Kansas "Beak 'em, Hawks!" t-shirt.  I can't remember if I wore the outfit I just laid out for school tomorrow...to school last Friday.

I can remember where I was on September 11, 2001, just as my parents can remember where they were the day JFK was shot and my grandparents could remember where they were when they heard of the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Like most of you out there, I can remember a lot and I can't remember a lot.

And of all the things I can't remember...

I can't remember a time when God has not been with us in the midst of it all.

www.diaryofacavewoman.com

Unibrow Blessings

You read it right.  Unibrow.  Blessings.  Together.

I have been crazy busy and just plain crazy.  Many of you are the same, though probably not as much of the latter as me.  It's okay.  Anyway, after so many of you who are just plain crazy gave my last blog post a crazy amount of readership, I disappeared into my craziness and took another extended time away.

I'm back.  With thoughts on unibrows.  Hopefully, it was worth the wait.

So, lately I've been a bit overwhelmed by yucky stuff on earth that just makes me yearn a bit more than ever for heaven.  And to keep myself from becoming too melancholy, I go to my Unibrow Blessings list.  Things I'm grateful for, no matter what junk this life throws my way.

For instance:

1)  Unibrows.  Well, thankfully, I don't have a full-on one of these babies any more, but I do still grow enough eyebrow hair that I surely could qualify as a donor at Hair Club for Men.  However, I'm grateful for my often unruly and unkempt eyebrows.  You see, when I was in junior high, my grandmother was going through chemo.  I sat in her bedroom one, vain, selfish, preteen day and suddenly noticed her brushing  her hair...right out of her head.  Then, I saw her wipe her eyebrows...right off her face. Thankful for the brows.

2)  Laundry.  I 've mentioned my love/hate relationship with this part of human life before.  But, if you know me at all, you know I equate mounds of clothing (currently, teenage-boy-summer-job-roofing-jeans) with children in my house.  Gotta' love children in the house.  Blessings.

3)  Occasional headaches.  Whaaat?  Well, for a decade I had make-you-puke migraines.  (Following a decade in which I didn't believe in them at all...I know...I know...)  God has brought me great relief in this area and so when the occasional discomfort comes along, I'm like, "Thank you, Lord!  I'm so glad I don't have these all the time anymore!!"

4)  Skunks under my house.  See last blog.

5)  Poopie diaper changing gig in the church nursery.  Aromatic sign of a growing church.  Lots of churches don't have babies at all.

6)  Car out of gas...which mine is right now.  Thankful I have a car to gas.

7)  A classroom that is a mess and not in any way ready for another school year.  A reminder that I have been blessed with a job in a very, very bad time for teachers to get jobs...let alone one a block from their homes!

8)  Memories of loved ones already departed from this life.  Thankful that I carry in a most convenient compartment snapshots of amazing people who God gave me the honor of knowing - even though it may not seem like it was for long enough.  I am who I am because of many of them and I am better for knowing all of them.

9) Dishes in my sink.  This symbolizes the fact that food is coming into the home and stomachs.  Hooray!

10) Bills.  Okay, these truly stink.  But, just when I think, "Will it ever end?!" I remember that God has paid my eternal debt...wow.  Amazing.


What are your Unibrow Blessings?  You know, things that could seem not-so-good but may only serve to remind you of how blessed you truly are.

Here's looking at your forehead!


www.diaryofacavewoman.com

Skunks Under My House

I wish my blog title was just a made-up attention grabber.  It's not.  I really do have skunks under my house.

We figured they moved in around July 1st.  Our oldest was home from KU over the weekend of the 4th and actually named the mama and her two babies.  All I can remember is that one of the babies is named "Travis."  I specifically told Kaleb not to name the skunks as that would cause us to become more attached.  I was being funny.

My youngest first noticed Travis and his sibling on our front porch on July 3rd.  In my sweet, Mayberry-of-a-town, it was the night of the city fireworks.  My hubby had already gone over to the high school football stadium to start popping popcorn with fellow Lion Club members.  (I told you I lived in a Mayberry kind of place...)  Anyway!  We were waiting for dark and also for the horrific lightening storm to let up before we trekked over for the big fire in the sky when Klay spotted Travis and...Tootie.  (We'll call her Tootie, but don't let yourself get too attached.) He started yelling and quickly ran out the other end of the house so that he could somehow "get" them.  I know, "getting" a skunk sounds like a grand idea.  He didn't "get" them, but he did "get" them worked up.  Yes, they sprayed under our house.

So, it's hot.  100+ degree hot for the next several days and we feel that we should turn the air conditioner off to somehow keep the smell from blasting throughout the house.  Good times.  No, really.  Good times!  As our oldest left the house late on the 4th he exclaimed, "Best 4th ever!!  So fun!  I love the skunk thing!  Awesome!"  Okay, this is probably a strange time to plug my book, but come on.  It's got a lot of parenting stuff in there and if it's written by a gal who has raised children who are just as happy with skunks as they are with big, blow-out fireworks that cost an arm and a leg...she's doing something right!

We have heard the nuttiest stuff since the skunks have moved in.  I found out that it isn't that uncommon of a thing we're experiencing here.  At least three teachers I am working summer school with have crazy skunk-under-the-house stories that are way better than mine.  Friends from church have brought traps (settle down, PETA friends, live traps) and suggested everything from apples to tuna for enticement.  Go on the web and search it yourself.  Seriously.  Just put something like "how to get skunks out from underneath your house" and you will be entertained for hours.

Thankfully, we only had a skunky smell around for a day or so.  The air is back on (as it is still 100+ out) and my home smells lovely (thank you horrible candle habit!)  But, Travis, Tootie and Mom are still here.

I hope they don't stay forever, but this is what I've learned from having skunks under my house.  Skunks = distractions.  And while we may not all have skunks (just us lucky people!)...we do all have distractions.  I have been very, VERY distracted the past few years by a plethora of things.  What things?  Oh, everything from sinus infections to houses that won't sell.  Skunks all.  The skunks are under my house and I have no idea for how long.  They could exit in two months without a trace of odor, or they could say "so-long" tonight and leave us reeking for weeks.  We may have to get help in getting them out or we may not even have to lift a finger ourselves.  But, regardless...life will go on in the house above.  The sun will rise on my pretty, little, yellow, Norman Rockwell house and it will also set upon it.  We will go to work, school, church and the occasional baby shower, baseball game and cook-out.  I mean, I don't like the skunk ordeal, but they aren't going to knock my house over in the night.  They aren't going to turn my friends against me.  And I'm pretty sure they aren't going to get me fired from my teaching job.

The enemy brings distractions.  Life brings distractions.  Sometimes, we are the distractions.  They may be big and stick around for years or small and fleeting.  They may go as quickly as they came - without a trace - or, they may leave a stink for a while.  Regardless, God has a purpose for each one of us, no matter what the distractions.  We must keep focused on what the Lord can do in and through us - in the worst of circumstances -  and stop spending so much time thinking about what's under the house!

www.diaryofacavewoman.com

Take the Church Lady Challenge!

I may be showing my age when I speak of The Church Lady, but she really does inspire me.  And by the end of this blog, I hope that regardless of whether you are a lady or a dude, an adult or a teen...if you associate yourself in any way with "church"...that you, too, will be inspired by her. 

For those of you wondering what corner of crazy I am coming from today, I will try to explain.  Several years ago, comedian Dana Carvey portrayed a character who was a church lady.  The church lady.  Anyway, Church Lady made a lot of people laugh with her over-the-top uppity, self-righteous hilarity.  My personal favorite is a bit where she is highlighting the evils of including Santa at Christmastime, and really drives it home by showing us all that if the "n" in "Santa" is moved to the end of "Santa", well...come on!  You've got it!  That's right...spells SATAN!  And the look on Church Lady's face is priceless.  She has Sunday-schooled us again!

(Please note that I recently saw a bit of the Lady again, and my, she could be pretty raunchy.  Because I only saw clips here and there...many years ago...I think I had blocked out the questionable.  So, please know that I refer to her because she is character that we aspire to be "unlike"...thus, the inspiration!)

When not raunchy, the lady can make me laugh.  But, she also - even sans raunchy - makes me a bit uncomfortable. I mean, I laugh because I know her. We all do.  The judgmental, hypocritical "Christian" who lacks pretty much any quality that Jesus possesses.  Horrible, right?  Well, this is where it gets uncomfortable.

Not only is the Lady's image one that many hold when they think of church or a Christian...there probably isn't a one of us claiming Christ who hasn't been guilty of contributing to said image in some way.

I just had a talk with an old friend this week about judgment.  We didn't water down standing for right and wrong...we just discussed how the real Satan (not in any way related to our beloved Santa!) seems to be very busy and out to get the human race (not in any way a new concept!) and we have to be more intentional about bringing the hope of Christ to those around us. 

This is where the challenge comes in.  Read the following and think about joining me.  It could revolutionize the world. At least our worlds.

For the month of July,  I am purposing to:

• Pray, not gossip.  For instance:  You get a call that someone needs prayer and that someone has requested that you pass the prayer need along, but you end up just passing and not praying.  Um, that would kind of defeat the purpose.  Before you make your next call, stop, drop and pray.  Also, beware of conversations that begin with, "You know who we really need to pray for?" and then don't end with someone actually praying.  "But, Cavewoman! People just come to me with stuff!  I can't help it.  I don't start gossip, it just finds me!"  It may not start with you, but if it finds you, make sure it ends with you.  A good friend once told me that when people come to her with a "prayer need" or concern or even a gripe about someone, she stops them immediately and says, "Let's pray right now!"  She says you instantly can see motive.  If the person is happy to pray and then go on, their heart is right.  If the person wants to keep explaining, talking or complaining first, then their heart is right...of center. I know my own heart needs some "shifting" on occasion.
• Praise, not pout.  There are a lot of miserable looking Christians walking around.  I'm afriad that I, at times, am one of them.  We live in some rough days and it's easy to get down. As Christians, we know we're blessed, I mean...hello, God sent Jesus to die for us...that's blessed!  But, we tend to look horizontally more than vertically and then we think, "Wow, why don't I have what they have?  Why isn't God allowing me to do that?" and next thing you know, we're pouting.  Get in the Word...read a Psalm...remember all that God has done for you and get your praise on!  Why would anyone want to know Jesus if all they know about Jesus is what they see in a pouty Christian?  I stand as convicted as anybody out there!
• Proceed, not retreat.  I am at the point in my walk with God where I am sure of Him.  For the most part.  Okay, I'm sure of Him being Who He says He is.  I am sure of Him creating me, saving me and someday taking me to Heaven.  I am not always sure of Him sustaining me in my day to day and that is the very thing that keeps me from being what I need to be for those around me!   Just because we are Christians doesn't mean we won't have trouble. It certainly doesn't make us better than others, giving way to our doing a Church Lady "Superior Dance"... please!  Most of our heroes in the Bible endured hardships that would make me jump off of a cliff.  Yet, I tend to think that my life should be easier.  No, I tend to think that if I appear perfect (not Church Lady perfect, but my version of perfect...which is perfectly together in every way without flaw) that then people will want to be a church person, too.  They will see how amazing I am and then want to know why I'm amazing and I'll say, "Jesus!"  and the angels will sing in Glory.  But, I am a human.  I am flawed.  I have troubles.  It's when others see me proceed through my troubles because I know that Christ sustains me...that's when they want to know what makes me tick.  If I retreat now, well, I am a hypocrite. And there ain't no dance for that one at all.

So, what do you think?  Will you join me?  Let's give church ladies (and all church goers) a good name! Let's see what could happen if we all prayed, praised and proceeded more...in spite of our circumstances!

No "Superior Dance", but no "Inferior Dance" either.  How about an "In Spite of My Exterior, God is Holding Together  My Interior" dance?  People will notice.  People just might see Jesus in it all.  And that, as the Lady might say, would be very "special" indeed!  Cue:  dance.

http://www.diaryofacavewoman.com/

Homesick

It's been a while, I know. What started out as a happy blog-break due to end of school festivities and a son getting married, transitioned into something very different.  A kind of very challenging blog-cation due to the whirlwind start of taking summer grad classes, teaching 6th grade summer school and...an actual whirlwind of sorts. 

The afternoon of May 22nd found me napping.  This is strange, as I am not a napper. It was the day after our middle son's incredible wedding and I was exhausted, but grateful for such a wonderful family and for my beautiful, amazing, new daughter-in-law.  My head was just getting comfy on the pillow when my youngest called from a friend's house.  He was frantic.  "Mom!  There's been a tornado spotted north of town, are the sirens going off?"  Being a native Kansan, I sleepily slurred, "Oh, buddy, it's Kansas in May.  I haven't heard anything, so don't worry about it."  My husband walked into the bedroom and I handed him the phone.  As soon as he said, "Hey, bud!" the sirens went off.  Still, we didn't get too freaked-out.  It gives me chills to think of this now, but my husband and oldest actually hopped into the car and headed out to storm chase.  Even more chilling, I had just received a text that good friends from Seattle- in for the wedding - had made it to their destination of Springfield, Missouri to visit some other friends.  They had passed through Joplin a mere hour before.

My middle brother was soon calling, imploring me to turn on the news.  He's awesome, but I thought he was caught up in storm fever and after I hung up with him, I avoided TV and radio and simply went and sat on my front porch.  It turns out my brother wasn't caught up at all. 

I don't have to go back and detail the events of that day any further.  Most of America and many parts of the world now know of the devestation that hit Joplin, Missouri...45 minutes from my childhood and current home...favorite place to shop as a teen ("Let's go shoplin in Joplin!")...current and sadly, now former home to many friends and loved ones.   What I did see on TV later that same day was shocking.  My husband, our oldest and a few others headed straight over to help with the immediate aftermath.  When my husband got back from Joplin at four in the morning he said, "I haven't seen anything like this since we took a team to Ground Zero right after 9/11."  I knew it was bad, but had no concept of how bad. 

I drove down Rangeline the Friday after and cried as I tried to keep the car on the road. I had to be told where the Home Depot - one we had frequented - used to stand.  Unrecognizable.  I wept as I thought of the orange trimmed structure that then-missing, and now confirmed with Jesus, cousins of one of my son's friends had been when the tornado hit.  Believe me, the tears were flowing and I had seen just a fraction.

On Memorial Day, I was honored to travel with many church friends, my husband and two of my sons to Joplin to help with the clean-up.  Everyone in this part of the world has a Joplin story it seems, as Midwestern folk are typically caring servants, rolling up their sleeves to help others in need.  I'm thinking that my story isn't different from most of theirs. The inital shock of seeing block upon block completely wiped out.  The almost numb feeling as you ask those around you, "Where on earth do we begin?"  The compassion as you help an elderly woman try to dig through rubble to rescue something...anything.  I found birthday pictures in streets...clothes in trees...a suitcase (in what used to be a garage) holding memories of someone's 1971 wedding day. I found pieces of lives...parts of homes...fragments of hearts. 

You can't walk away from destroyed structures, or in these economically depressed times, lost or foreclosed dwellings, without really thinking about the word "home." 

I am no preacher.  I am not a great theologian.  I am just a girl with a Bible...and a God. 

"Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations."  Psalm 90:1
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.'"  Psalm 91:1-2

It is so hard to remember that this world and the structures within it will all someday be gone.

It is so hard to remember that this is our temporary home...until we see how quickly it can be destroyed.

I pray for the families who have lost so much and will continue to be a part of whatever I can to serve them. And I also pray that we will all find refuge in so much more than a basement.  I pray that we all may find solace in knowing that while fortified walls can give way...God never can.

I pray that for the rest of my temporal life that I will remember this...

it's not what we dwell in...it's Who we dwell in.


http://www.diaryofacavewoman.com/