Like a Lawnchair on a Mountain

Alright Kids, here’s your deep thought for the day:
Unforgiveness causes us to lose perspective.”
Now, before you go all Pinterest on me and turn this into a wall plaque with distressed edges, a crackle finish, and my name on the bottom, I didn’t make this up. I actually heard it during a sermon on Sunday.

Whether I’m conscious of it or not, I keep an epically complex scorecard of carefully ledgered minutia somewhere in the back of my mind. Left unchecked, frustration turns to bitterness, and bitterness turns into a loss of perspective–unmoored in an open sea of mirage paradigms.



Daddles and Neckties

I know what you’re thinking; “Neckties, i’ve heard of, but what is this Daddle of which you speak?”

Before I explain, let me clarify what I am about to explain. I realize that sounds a lot like a double positive. In my experience, parents are the world’s most difficult people to shop for.           As a relatively new member of this club, I’ve been taking notes to do my best to keep that stereotype alive. Here’s how it works:

“Hey Dad, what do you want for your birthday?”

“Whaaaat? My birthday? All I want is my wonderful family!”

“Yeah, no but like what STUFF can I get that you want?”

Or this:

“Mom, what do you want for Christmas?”

“You know, I don’t need anything! I already have YOU! Just let me see the size on the tag of your shirt real quick…”

Of course, everyone knows this is the worst answer a parent can give to that question:

“Oh, I don’t need a PRESENT, but since you’re asking; the only thing I want is for you to [insert one of the following: clean your room more/be nice to your brother/get better grades/be more obedient/ etc. ]”

Really, all you want for Christmas is my room to be clean? Alright, well then in a last-minute, desperation-born shopping frenzy, I will now have to spend twice as much as I originally intended on something that is at best, a memento.

Enter: The Daddle. You may now proceed to to complete your purchase.

So I realize this post was a pretty pathetic homage to all the great dads in my life. I just sat here for a full three minutes after reading this blog wondering how to make a segue between making fun of parents in general and sending out some serious Hallmark moment props to dads.

To my dad: Thanks for modeling for me the qualities of a Godly man. Your devotion to God and to your family have shaped the lives of your children for generations.

To my husband’s dad: Thank you for raising up an unflinchingly Godly man for me to marry, and choosing to father him like God fathered you.

To my husband: You’re amazing. Lucky for you, Father’s Day only comes once a year, because I would wear myself out every day trying to get you breakfast in bed of cinnamon rolls and chicken fried steak, all while maintaining a perfect home, happy children, and a swimmers physique. Unfortunately, we both know none of that happened today except the part with the cinnamon rolls. All the super cheesy movie proposals involve a line where someone says that they will spend the rest of their lives trying to make the other person feel as happy as they do right now. As much of an eye-roller as that line is, I have to admit it’s how you make me feel. I’ve discovered marriage to be race of gratitude, where we strive to be swift to “overpay” a debt of love.

I have throughly enjoyed watching your imperfections highlighted and gradually worn smooth by our wonderful, sweet children, as you discover and model daily the Father heart of God for His children. You challenge my perception of how much I can love you when I see you getting the wind knocked out of you courtesy of the two small punks jumping on your back, or when your “good cop” routine goes south and I watch you in an epic standoff between a boy, his dinner, and you, and especially in those moments where you laugh/cough into your sleeve in the middle of correcting your daughter. “Violet, *choking cough* did you just huck a baby chick in the air to see if it could fly? *cough cough cough*”.

I love you Baby, Happy Father’s Day.


things i tell myself.

So hello world,

I haven’t been here a while. that doesn’t mean i haven’t been anywhere. I certainly didn’t cease to exist the moment i stopped writing every day. I stopped for several reasons. The first being that we bought a house through the worst lender in the world *cough bankofamerica cough cough*, which was a headache all of it’s own, and then we proceeded to transform it from this:

into something that can best be described if you picture Costo and Pintrest having a baby, that baby being a fairy, and me catching that fairy and shaking it’s dust all over my house. Of course, we had a lot of help–not just Costco and Pintrest, but also our awesome contractor and my amazing dad (Happy Father’s Day, Dad!) and plenty of visits to home depot and building salvage yards.

I just realized all of that has been one paragraph. Sorry. So yeah, we bought a house, we changed just about everything you can possibly change short of building a new house, and now we’re almost done. Someday i’ll blog more about it. I need to stop now though because this house has taken over my life like a giant disgusting termite in one of those nasty Terminix commercials.

The other reason is that I got bored of reading the stuff i was writing. That’s a pretty legitimate reason as far as i am concerned. I felt like I didn’t just fall into a rut with my writing; i felt like I became the very rut I was trying to stay out of. So i stopped. I remembered how much I liked to write about thinks and thoughts and prayers and poems, but it felt strange to put a dangerously emoting piece of prose next to a blog post about carving cannibalistic pumpkins. So then I did neither and missed both. That was just depressing.

Here’s the truth about me. There’s no way I could be a character on a sitcom. I’m just way too complicated. I’m nerdy, quiet, silly, sad, passionate, opinionated, lazy, freakin’ hilarious, sweet, jaded, and a million other facets. Just like anyone else, I am a nautilus of a person. There’s always another side of me around the bend. That sounded really Jekyll and Hyde. You know what I mean though, right? Of course you do.

Here’s your nautilus note for the day. I wrote this on my other other blog back in December of 2006.

why the world is round

i discovered you yesterday
lying under that tree. you were happy and you were foolish with that lovely apple in your hand.
i saw the bite you took out of that fresh perfect fruit
i also saw that you shared it with your lover, and now your sorrow shall be doubled.
your redemption comes in death and pain and sacrifice now.
gone are the idyllic days of your never-ending youth, and gone is your naked purity.

you saw me and you cried as you hid in the shade of your tree…i cried too, and my tears were a mist in the garden.
i gave you a gift and you still asked for more, but not from me.
yesterday’s yesterday found us side by side and hand in hand as we walked together at then end of each day…you would bring the sweetest smile to my face, and you in turn, would find yourself alive more than life itself.

the door here will be ever blocked by my anger and righteousness, because you have fallen, and you can’t hide that from me. i have seen it and now i cannot allow you to continue in this harmony. cover yourself so that no one can see your nakedness as you leave this place.

now you know the power and mystery of your free will. now you understand what i meant when i told you to use it wisely. now you have the chance to choose me.

choose me, and someday i will bring you back to my garden.

thanks for reading–this goes out especially to the few, the proud, the subscribers to my blog who will read this post first. Get ready for this blog to get a lot more weird. In a good way.