Sometimes my creative juices flow like the Niagara River cascading over Horseshoe Falls. And sometimes they trickle like a creek in Death Valley. If Death Valley was on the sun.
My blogging abilities have been at a "sunny Death Valley" level lately. Maybe it's because this is the busiest time of the year, and all I've had on my mind is planning for the holidays and buying Christmas presents and baking Christmas cookies and attending Christmas-related events and...thinking about my birthday.
Yep, my birthday falls right in with the Christmas season. Actually, right on Christmas to be exact. December 25th is my birthmas. I love my birthday. I always have. Maybe I make a bigger deal out of my birthday because it's *slightly* overshadowed by a major holiday. But regardless, I do love my birthday. And I don't know, it's not because of presents or milestones or anything...it's really just 'cause, hey, it's a day that celebrates my life (and I don't mean that in a selfish way at all!), and why not enjoy a day like that?
**Sidenote: Does anyone else think that really it should be MOMS that we celebrate on our birthdays? They are the ones who gave us life and all. Aren't they the ones who carried us on the inside for 9 months and then carried us on the outside for 3 years and then still carry us figuratively and emotionally for the rest of their lives? Yeah, here's to you, Mom. Thanks for birthing me and being the best mom ever. :)
So, this year's birthday is kind of a big one for me. Or so 'they' say. In just 5 short days, I'm going to be the big 3-0. Whaaat?! Well, put me in a toga and call me Caesar, when did that happen?! Sometimes I wonder where the years go. They just fly by. One day you're 13, and you shut yourself in a closet, chanting that you wish you were older, and the next day you are 30 and the hot-shot editor of a fashion magazine. Wait...no...that was a movie...
Anyway, you get the idea. I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about. So, here I am on the cusp of entering a new decade of my life. And you know what?
I'm ok with that.
It seems that many people dread turning 30. Women the world over refer to their 30th birthday as their second 29th birthday. But aren't ages just numbers? They don't dictate who we are or what we are going to do. They can't tell us we are old or worn out or useless. The higher the number doesn't mean the lower the ability we have to accomplish something. Sure, there's a natural progression and deterioration of our physical bodies--I'm clearly not suggesting that every 80 year old should still be able to climb Mt. Everest (I can't even climb Mt. Everest) or that arthritis won't set in our knuckles or our hearing won't start to fade--but numbers that indicate how long we've dwelt on the earth should have little effect on how we feel.
A friend asked me the other day if I'm ready to turn 30. I thought back on the past 10 years of my life, and I realized I regret nothing. Besides the lofty idea of wishing I'd traveled overseas a little bit more during my college years, I really didn't miss out on anything. My 20's were great, they really were, but I'm leaving them behind now. Can't get 'em back, so why dwell on that fact? Maybe bigger and better things are in store for me in this next decade. Maybe my 30's is when I'll get a little more travel in. Chances are my 30's will also bring motherhood with it (hopefully!), and then I'll be able to teach my own children not to stress about ages and numbers, and how they can feel young if they think young. And how--because God richly blesses us--life is beautiful in some way, each and every day, so enjoy moments and people and don't freak out about things you have no control over (like getting older).
Satchel Paige once said, "Age is question of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." I tend to agree with him. So, this Christmas, I'm gonna embrace the moment my life number switches from 29 to 30, and I'm not gonna mind. I'm not even going to feel the need to act all 30ish or anything. Ew, no. That's all part of this "not feeling old" bit. For example, I'm planning on wearing a tutu on my birthday. Why? Because I can. And maybe I'll dance and twirl and laugh and blow out all the candles on my birthday cake in one breath. Because 30 is just a number.
Have a blessed, happy, and young-feeling Christmas, everyone!
"We don't stop playing because we grow old. We grow old because we stop playing." ~George Bernard Shaw
Friday, December 20, 2013
Saturday, November 16, 2013
I Don't Get It
The world is full of confusing things. Phenomena, oddities, scientific anomalies. Things that can never be comprehended or explained by the human mind. You know what I'm talking about. I'm sure many of you already had a few such things pop into your head as you started reading. And most of us, no doubt, would agree upon the same handful of the inexplicable mysteries of the world. Like what's up with the Bermuda Triangle or how a light year works. Or what happened to Hoffa. Maybe. Anyway, you know what I'm saying. But sometimes even just thinking about some of that stuff can end up making your brain all wonky and your head hurt and really, it's just not even worth the hassle. At all.
However, I happen to have a few less scientific-y things that also completely boggle my mind. And although these are no less confusing to me, I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, they are somewhere within the realm of being explained. At some point. By someone. Specifically to me.
So now, what I'm certain you all have been waiting for...
Jessica's Top 10 List of Things She Just Doesn't Get
10) How gas prices can fluctuate in a matter of hours. Seriously, how does that happen? How can I drive passed a gas station in the morning, and when I drive back passed it in the afternoon, there can be a 20 cent price difference? And who decides that? Does a Gas-Station-Powers-That-Be call up the gas station attendant and say, "Hey, I'm thinking that $3.59 ya got there looks a little shady. Let's jack it up to $3.79 and throw in a free car wash. 'Cause that will be less shady"?
9) How the word 'dope' came to mean cool. I don't actually know anyone that uses that word, but I've heard it before. Like, "That car is dope, man!" And, as far as I know, 'dope' was either a derogatory name for a less-than-intelligent person...or a slang word for illegal drugs. Those, in fact, are not cool things, people. Not cool at all.
8) Why Stacy London can tell people how to dress. The sassy, in-your-face style guru recently wrapped up her fashion show of 10 years, "What Not To Wear". Now, don't get me wrong, I actually watched the show on occasion, and I didn't mind it. But sometimes I'd look at Stacy and think, "Ugh, what is that hideous outfit she is wearing?! I would NOT want her to tell me what to wear." And then there was the time she had that random strip of her hair dyed gray. I mean, maybe she was just embracing growing older, but the gray strip seemed suspiciously and particularly placed. Anyway, I either have excellent taste in clothes already, and I don't need her to tell me what to wear, or I'm just fooling myself, and Stacy does, in fact, know what she's talking about. I'm still skeptical. But then again, she and co-host Clinton Kelly did do some awesome makeovers on some less-than-style-conscious individuals...
7) Why someone would make radio commercials with police sirens in them. Seriously, folks, not cool. Who thought that would be a great idea? "Hey, let's make a funny commercial for <insert product> where someone gets pulled over by a cop! It'll be awesome!" Oh, yeah, real awesome when it comes on the radio, and I jump in my seat and frantically look down at my speedometer, panicking that maybe I'm well over the speed limit, and then my eyes shoot up to the rearview mirror, and oh my gosh why can't I see the cop, where is he?! Thanks for the mini heart attack, advertising people, but no.
6) Why cereal is so expensive. It's a cardboard rectangular prism filled with wheat, oats, flour, and the occasional helping of sugar. Why is that $4? Why? And I don't even buy the kind that comes with a surprise in the bottom of the box. I might pay extra for a surprise. But not for the plastic bag that contains the cereal inside the box.
5) The cell phone commercials with the parents looking for their son Jeremy. If you haven't seen these commercials, lucky you. The premise is a mom and a dad talking into a computer (probably using something like Skype), pleading with their son Jeremy, who is in Europe, to stop using his phone and switch service providers, because his cell phone bill is outrageous. Here's the part I don't get: if they are the ones getting his bill, why don't they switch service providers?! Gah! Seriously, Jeremy's parents? Seriously?
4) How I have never seen an actual car chase. How many movies have you seen where a high-speed chase ensues through the crowded streets of a big city? Tons, I bet. The black sedan with tinted windows flies the wrong direction down a one-way street while the suv jumps a curb to cut it off. The Impala barely skids through an intersection as a semi comes barreling through, jack-knifing inches in front of the pursuers. The Mini Cooper thunders down a set of subway stairs with motorcycles in hot pursuit. The Shelby soars over a ramp leaving bridge-trapped police in its dust. Horns are honking, people are jumping out of the way, fruit stands are getting annihilated. Just once I'd like to see a real live car chase. How have I never seen one? They happen to some extent, right? I don't want anyone to get hurt or anything to blow up, of course, but is one lil' ol' real-time chase too much to ask? The closest I've ever come was 5th grade, watching on tv as the cops chased down O.J. Simpson's white bronco. But no fruit stands were hurt in the making of that chase, so it doesn't really count.
3) Why people can't say words like 'library', 'coupon', or 'regardless. Maybe it's the former English major in me, but when people say these words wrong, it's like nails on a chalkboard. It's 'libRARY', not 'liBERRY'--it's not a fruit. It's 'COUpon' not 'Q-pon'--there's no 'q' in that word. It's 'REgardless', not 'IRregardless'--'irregardless' is not even a word. That would be a double negative. And don't even get me started on 'your' and 'you're'... <steps off soapbox before more grammar rants ensue>
2) Automatic soap dispensers (in the home). I'm not talking about ones you find in a public restroom; that's fine, they can have them, whatever. But why would someone purchase one for their own bathroom or kitchen? What's the point? You are worried about the germs that get on the pump of the soap dispenser--but every time you pump the dispenser to get soap, isn't it because you are about to wash your hands? So why does it matter if there are germs on top of the pump? Every time you touch it, you are going to wash your hands anyway, so...buh-bye germs. If you are that worried, just wipe the soap dispenser off with a Clorox wipe every now and then. Problem solved. Don't spend $30 on an automatic soap dispenser. Yep, $30. No thank you.
And---drum roll, please---the #1 thing Jessica doesn't get...
1) Math. No explanation necessary.
Well, there you have it. This list is definitely not exhaustive, but these most certainly rank the highest. How about you? What are some things you don't get? Do any of them match up with mine? Can anyone explain any of these to me? If you can, the free prize won't be an automatic soap dispenser or a box of cereal. But it'd be totally dope if you can help a sister out.
However, I happen to have a few less scientific-y things that also completely boggle my mind. And although these are no less confusing to me, I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, they are somewhere within the realm of being explained. At some point. By someone. Specifically to me.
So now, what I'm certain you all have been waiting for...
Jessica's Top 10 List of Things She Just Doesn't Get
10) How gas prices can fluctuate in a matter of hours. Seriously, how does that happen? How can I drive passed a gas station in the morning, and when I drive back passed it in the afternoon, there can be a 20 cent price difference? And who decides that? Does a Gas-Station-Powers-That-Be call up the gas station attendant and say, "Hey, I'm thinking that $3.59 ya got there looks a little shady. Let's jack it up to $3.79 and throw in a free car wash. 'Cause that will be less shady"?
9) How the word 'dope' came to mean cool. I don't actually know anyone that uses that word, but I've heard it before. Like, "That car is dope, man!" And, as far as I know, 'dope' was either a derogatory name for a less-than-intelligent person...or a slang word for illegal drugs. Those, in fact, are not cool things, people. Not cool at all.
8) Why Stacy London can tell people how to dress. The sassy, in-your-face style guru recently wrapped up her fashion show of 10 years, "What Not To Wear". Now, don't get me wrong, I actually watched the show on occasion, and I didn't mind it. But sometimes I'd look at Stacy and think, "Ugh, what is that hideous outfit she is wearing?! I would NOT want her to tell me what to wear." And then there was the time she had that random strip of her hair dyed gray. I mean, maybe she was just embracing growing older, but the gray strip seemed suspiciously and particularly placed. Anyway, I either have excellent taste in clothes already, and I don't need her to tell me what to wear, or I'm just fooling myself, and Stacy does, in fact, know what she's talking about. I'm still skeptical. But then again, she and co-host Clinton Kelly did do some awesome makeovers on some less-than-style-conscious individuals...
7) Why someone would make radio commercials with police sirens in them. Seriously, folks, not cool. Who thought that would be a great idea? "Hey, let's make a funny commercial for <insert product> where someone gets pulled over by a cop! It'll be awesome!" Oh, yeah, real awesome when it comes on the radio, and I jump in my seat and frantically look down at my speedometer, panicking that maybe I'm well over the speed limit, and then my eyes shoot up to the rearview mirror, and oh my gosh why can't I see the cop, where is he?! Thanks for the mini heart attack, advertising people, but no.
6) Why cereal is so expensive. It's a cardboard rectangular prism filled with wheat, oats, flour, and the occasional helping of sugar. Why is that $4? Why? And I don't even buy the kind that comes with a surprise in the bottom of the box. I might pay extra for a surprise. But not for the plastic bag that contains the cereal inside the box.
5) The cell phone commercials with the parents looking for their son Jeremy. If you haven't seen these commercials, lucky you. The premise is a mom and a dad talking into a computer (probably using something like Skype), pleading with their son Jeremy, who is in Europe, to stop using his phone and switch service providers, because his cell phone bill is outrageous. Here's the part I don't get: if they are the ones getting his bill, why don't they switch service providers?! Gah! Seriously, Jeremy's parents? Seriously?
4) How I have never seen an actual car chase. How many movies have you seen where a high-speed chase ensues through the crowded streets of a big city? Tons, I bet. The black sedan with tinted windows flies the wrong direction down a one-way street while the suv jumps a curb to cut it off. The Impala barely skids through an intersection as a semi comes barreling through, jack-knifing inches in front of the pursuers. The Mini Cooper thunders down a set of subway stairs with motorcycles in hot pursuit. The Shelby soars over a ramp leaving bridge-trapped police in its dust. Horns are honking, people are jumping out of the way, fruit stands are getting annihilated. Just once I'd like to see a real live car chase. How have I never seen one? They happen to some extent, right? I don't want anyone to get hurt or anything to blow up, of course, but is one lil' ol' real-time chase too much to ask? The closest I've ever come was 5th grade, watching on tv as the cops chased down O.J. Simpson's white bronco. But no fruit stands were hurt in the making of that chase, so it doesn't really count.
3) Why people can't say words like 'library', 'coupon', or 'regardless. Maybe it's the former English major in me, but when people say these words wrong, it's like nails on a chalkboard. It's 'libRARY', not 'liBERRY'--it's not a fruit. It's 'COUpon' not 'Q-pon'--there's no 'q' in that word. It's 'REgardless', not 'IRregardless'--'irregardless' is not even a word. That would be a double negative. And don't even get me started on 'your' and 'you're'... <steps off soapbox before more grammar rants ensue>
2) Automatic soap dispensers (in the home). I'm not talking about ones you find in a public restroom; that's fine, they can have them, whatever. But why would someone purchase one for their own bathroom or kitchen? What's the point? You are worried about the germs that get on the pump of the soap dispenser--but every time you pump the dispenser to get soap, isn't it because you are about to wash your hands? So why does it matter if there are germs on top of the pump? Every time you touch it, you are going to wash your hands anyway, so...buh-bye germs. If you are that worried, just wipe the soap dispenser off with a Clorox wipe every now and then. Problem solved. Don't spend $30 on an automatic soap dispenser. Yep, $30. No thank you.
And---drum roll, please---the #1 thing Jessica doesn't get...
1) Math. No explanation necessary.
Well, there you have it. This list is definitely not exhaustive, but these most certainly rank the highest. How about you? What are some things you don't get? Do any of them match up with mine? Can anyone explain any of these to me? If you can, the free prize won't be an automatic soap dispenser or a box of cereal. But it'd be totally dope if you can help a sister out.
Monday, November 4, 2013
The Bunny Chronicles: Part Three
"Well, maybe they should try it sometime. Bet they'd like it. Instead of clapping at me and telling me no, they should just snuggle down next to me and...
Chew the carpet. They really shouldn't knock it 'til they've tried it. It's just too much fun. And it makes my teeth feel great. Plus, I stack up these excellent little piles of carpet shavings. It's actually a work of art. Mom (aka: Female Human) does not appreciate my artistic abilities. I tried to gnaw an awesome Batman-shape into the carpet one time, but Mom just clapped at me. At first, I thought she was applauding my efforts, but nooooo. Apparently carpet art is frowned upon in this establishment.
Mom and Dad (aka: Male Human) try to avert my attention to other things. They leave a cardboard box and a chew toy and all sorts of things in the middle of the living room now. While I appreciate the sentiment--and do chew these on occasion--I find their efforts quite comical. Cardboard and wood vs. carpet? Please. That's a no-brainer.
Before you think me a carpet snob, I should make it clear that I do chew other things sometimes. Like the dvd boxes under the table. Or the corners of books if I can get near the bookshelf. Oh! And one time I designed lovely artistic etchings all around the edges of Dad's flip flops. Then there was the giant pillow monster that I annihilated under the bed. The Humans will thank me later, I'm sure.
Well, I thought this chewing business was all fun and games until I gnawed into something that caused Mom and Dad to lose something called "the Internet" for 24 hours. The next time Mom let me out of my pen, I bounded around the corner, down the hallway and was met with this:
Chew the carpet. They really shouldn't knock it 'til they've tried it. It's just too much fun. And it makes my teeth feel great. Plus, I stack up these excellent little piles of carpet shavings. It's actually a work of art. Mom (aka: Female Human) does not appreciate my artistic abilities. I tried to gnaw an awesome Batman-shape into the carpet one time, but Mom just clapped at me. At first, I thought she was applauding my efforts, but nooooo. Apparently carpet art is frowned upon in this establishment.
Mom and Dad (aka: Male Human) try to avert my attention to other things. They leave a cardboard box and a chew toy and all sorts of things in the middle of the living room now. While I appreciate the sentiment--and do chew these on occasion--I find their efforts quite comical. Cardboard and wood vs. carpet? Please. That's a no-brainer.
Before you think me a carpet snob, I should make it clear that I do chew other things sometimes. Like the dvd boxes under the table. Or the corners of books if I can get near the bookshelf. Oh! And one time I designed lovely artistic etchings all around the edges of Dad's flip flops. Then there was the giant pillow monster that I annihilated under the bed. The Humans will thank me later, I'm sure.
Well, I thought this chewing business was all fun and games until I gnawed into something that caused Mom and Dad to lose something called "the Internet" for 24 hours. The next time Mom let me out of my pen, I bounded around the corner, down the hallway and was met with this:
Seriously?
Well, fine. Once I realized I was confined to the hallway only, I just went back to my pen. That'll show them. Nobody puts Bunny in the proverbial corner.
I only pouted for about a day. I can't really stay mad at them for long. They feed me and give me pets, and sometimes they smile and laugh while they rub my ears and call me "Brat" or "Stinker". I think those must be Human terms of endearment.
And I know they don't want me chewing on things that might hurt me. They're pretty awesome like that. Maybe I'll stop chewing stuff.
Nah, probably not."
Monday, October 21, 2013
God and Man
The end of October means one thing: the holidays are drawing closer. I can't believe Christmas is just a couple months away! I'm never one to jump the gun on holidays (ex: I refuse to decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving), but yesterday, I got to experience just a tiny bit of the Christmas season. And I was actually ok with it...
Two awesome ladies at our church have decided to film a nativity video using all the kiddos that attend our church. And, golly, is it gonna be cute! To get a head start on the filming and editing, they began the process yesterday. I got the opportunity to tag along and help corral all the little sheep and wise men and angels. And go buy them pizza. Even the inhabitants of Bethlehem love pizza.
Such chaos when you are dealing with 15 kids, all under 11 years old! We had sheep rubbing off their black eyeliner noses, wise men flipping their crowns upside down (making them look less like kings of the East and more like Spartan warriors), an angel who decided that wings were so "last season", a Mary who was slightly terrified to hold a real-life baby Jesus, and said baby Jesus who liked rolling out of his manger to eat hay. But somehow, it all seemed to come together. And somehow, I was reminded of a beautiful truth through children making the story of Jesus' birth---which I have heard countless times---come to life...
As the filming began, I stood in the background, smiling at the sweet faces and tiny people who were acting out what is, quite literally, one of the greatest stories of all time. I oohh'd and ahhh'd with the parents as we watched the scene unfold and all their adorable kids do cute things that will make the final product imperfectly perfect. I don't think there could have been a cuter baby to play Jesus. He's this sweet, happy 6-month-old with olive skin and a dark, curly ringlets on top of his head. He actually kinda looks like what I imagine Jesus might have looked like as a baby. And, of course, he did all the typical, adorable, uncooperative things you can guess a 6-month-old portraying the Savior of the world would do. Rolled out of the manger. Tried to eat hay. Crawled all over (and drooled on) the gifts from the wise men. And he naturally smiled and laughed the whole time. So so sweet.
And as I watched all that, it suddenly occurred to me that he was probably not doing anything that the real baby Jesus wouldn't have done. Jesus was an infant, too. He giggled, He crawled, He drooled, He cried, He gummed Mary's shoulder as His first tooth threatened to break the skin, He slept snuggled up to her chest in the middle of the night. He learned to walk on shaky legs, and He got scrapes on His knees and elbows from falling on the dirt-packed floor of His Nazareth home. The only difference was that His tiny hands that often grasped His earthly father's finger also created the universe.
He was 100% God. And 100% man.
I've never been able to wrap my mind around the Hypostatic union of Jesus. The fact that He was God and human at the same time is about as easy to understand as the concept of eternity or God having no beginning. Or math. But no matter how unfathomable it is, how much more comforting is it to know that the One who has the power to save us from sin and death is the very same One that knows what it is like to be like us?
Hebrews 2 tells us "...he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted." And chapter 4 reminds us "...we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and grace to help in time of need."
Wow. Our sufferings, our feelings, our temptations, our ups and downs are nothing new to our Savior. He's been there. He lived it. He never sinned, but He lived what we go through every day. He can relate. He understands.
And He gives us mercy and grace. He loves us so very much.
Isn't it amazing that God could use a makeshift nativity scene with a handful of small children to remind me of one of His many deep, rich, beautiful truths? He's awesome like that.
***scripture taken from ESV***
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Next Year
Swirling leaves of oranges, browns, reds. A crunchy yellow blanket spread out across the park. A cool breeze with a dab of warm sunshine. Pumpkins. Apples. A warm sweater. A steamy mug of cider and a sweet, sugary donut.
Ah yes...the sights, sounds, and smells of autumn. My favorite time of year.
I know what you are thinking, "Yeah, yeah, I know...you and eeeeeeeveryone else's favorite time of year, Jessica." But nay nay, I'm not like everyone else. I have absolutely always loved the fall season. Even when I was young. I've loved fall before it became trendy to love fall.
Basically, I'm an Autumn Hipster.
There's just something about this time of year that makes me happy. Don't get me wrong, I'm never excited to see the hot, lazy days of summer come to an end or ready to usher in the blustery, cold days of winter, but the span of time in between the two makes saying good-bye to summer and hello to winter a whole lot easier to handle. I love apple orchards and hayrides, cool evenings and bonfires, picking the perfect pumpkin patch pumpkin (say that three times fast) and decorating our house with leaves and gourds, the rich and muted colors of the season, trying out every single 'pumpkin flavored anything' recipe I can get my hands on, and...dressing up for Halloween.
The actual idea of Halloween doesn't do much for me, and I definitely don't think of it as a holiday, and I really could even do without the candy, but anything that allows me to dress up and be someone (or something) else for a moment has my vote. That's probably the actress in me. If every holiday required a costume, every holiday would be even more awesome. Ok, who am I kidding? If it was culturally normal to dress up at least once a week, I'd be all over that. Even just a tutu. I could totally rock a tutu.
But, I digress. Really, I said all that to say, I think fall is too short. For that matter, summer is as well. Ok, really, winter is just too long. Especially for those of us here in the eastern Midwest. The other day I was pushing Lil' Man in his stroller through the lovely yellow leaves on our way to the park. It was every bit the quintessential autumn day. We rounded the corner where the sidewalk starts to slope down into this small area with concrete benches and tables. In the center sits an adorable little fountain (more like a glorified bird bath) of a little boy and girl surrounded by frogs and birds. On hot days, it's a welcome sight for sweaty little toddlers and ball-chasing dogs. But on this particular day as we rounded the corner, the sound of trickling water or the sight of a happy boy and girl didn't greet our ears or eyes. Instead, we were met by silence and a green wooden box. The joyful little fountain was closed up for the season. As we passed by, Lil' Man said something about "no fountain", and I nonchalantly said, "Yep, it's all covered up for now, but it will be back...<sudden realization> NEXT YEAR?!"
Whaaat?! In that moment, I was reminded how ridiculously long winter is. It will literally be next year before that fountain reopens. At least a good 7 months. *Sigh* I'm just not ready for that yet. The only thing possibly more disheartening than the impending long winter is that "MOvember" is also right around the corner, but that's for another blog entry...
Well, the good news in all this: it happens to only be the middle of October, so I still have a few weeks of autumn left to enjoy. On that note, I'm going to sip this Pumpkin Spiced Latte my wonderful Hubs surprised me with at work today, gaze out the window at the changing leaves, and ponder my epic costume for this Halloween. Cheers to autumn!
But, I digress. Really, I said all that to say, I think fall is too short. For that matter, summer is as well. Ok, really, winter is just too long. Especially for those of us here in the eastern Midwest. The other day I was pushing Lil' Man in his stroller through the lovely yellow leaves on our way to the park. It was every bit the quintessential autumn day. We rounded the corner where the sidewalk starts to slope down into this small area with concrete benches and tables. In the center sits an adorable little fountain (more like a glorified bird bath) of a little boy and girl surrounded by frogs and birds. On hot days, it's a welcome sight for sweaty little toddlers and ball-chasing dogs. But on this particular day as we rounded the corner, the sound of trickling water or the sight of a happy boy and girl didn't greet our ears or eyes. Instead, we were met by silence and a green wooden box. The joyful little fountain was closed up for the season. As we passed by, Lil' Man said something about "no fountain", and I nonchalantly said, "Yep, it's all covered up for now, but it will be back...<sudden realization> NEXT YEAR?!"
Whaaat?! In that moment, I was reminded how ridiculously long winter is. It will literally be next year before that fountain reopens. At least a good 7 months. *Sigh* I'm just not ready for that yet. The only thing possibly more disheartening than the impending long winter is that "MOvember" is also right around the corner, but that's for another blog entry...
Well, the good news in all this: it happens to only be the middle of October, so I still have a few weeks of autumn left to enjoy. On that note, I'm going to sip this Pumpkin Spiced Latte my wonderful Hubs surprised me with at work today, gaze out the window at the changing leaves, and ponder my epic costume for this Halloween. Cheers to autumn!
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Remembering
Will I ever forget?
The laughing, the talking, even the fact that I was surrounded by friends, melted into the background of my mind as he uttered words that will forever be burned into my memory. All I could think was, "Wait, what? What do you mean TWO--not just one, but TWO--planes just hit the World Trade Center? How does that even happen? And a third one hit the Pentagon? The Pentagon?! Nothing should even be able to touch the Pentagon! Right...?"
I don't remember much from the rest of that school day. At first, I wasn't angry or sad or scared. I was just...confused. Absolutely confused. I didn't understand how it all happened, why it all happened, or what it all meant. I'm sure we talked about it in our classes. I'm sure we prayed. I even think that those of us who could drive were finally permitted to leave a little early that day. I remember standing outside in our old, beat-up parking lot with a few of my closest friends. The sky that day was gray and dreary, much the like the hearts and minds of our fellow Americans. I remember looking up into that big, brooding sky, wondering if another plane was going to crash into our school or perhaps a bomb would just fall from the clouds and decimate the neighborhood.
Honestly, I don't think I truly understood the severity of what had happened that morning until I got home that afternoon to my mom sitting on the edge of the couch. Pretty sure there were tears in her eyes, but a look of relief on her face as I came in that door. Looking back now, my question, "Did you hear what happened?" seems silly. Of course she heard what happened. The whole country...no doubt the whole world...knew what happened. I just sat quietly on the couch next to her and watched the devastation continue to unfold on the tv.
Such a tragedy as I had never known before was hitting so close to home. So very unreal. Terrorism. Hatred. War. Never in my 17 years of life did I even have to remotely think about such things. That happened in other countries. Other moments in history past. Not now. Not here. Not in my beloved America...
It's been 12 years since that day (12?!), but the memory is as real to some as if it were just last week. I know much speculation has risen about the event in recent years--an inside job, a government conspiracy, etc., but the fact of the matter is that a tragedy happened that day. Many, many lives were lost. Families were never the same. An entire skyline was forever altered. And the United States of America was frightened.
But only for a moment.
The USA is a survivor. She picks herself up, dusts herself off, and she presses on. Brave men and women (to whom I'm grateful) fight for her. In desperate times, her citizens band together. She mourns the losses but looks to the future.
No, I can't say how that day truly came about. I can't say that slowly but surely our freedoms won't get taken away. Can't say some of them aren't being taken now. Can't say things will get better. Can't say wars will ever cease or people won't be tragically taken. But I will say that for now, America is the land of the FREE and the home of the BRAVE. And I can assuredly say that I am very proud to be an American. I was that fateful day 12 years ago, and I still am today. I love our country, and I pray to God for our country...
And no, I will never forget that day.
Such a tragedy as I had never known before was hitting so close to home. So very unreal. Terrorism. Hatred. War. Never in my 17 years of life did I even have to remotely think about such things. That happened in other countries. Other moments in history past. Not now. Not here. Not in my beloved America...
It's been 12 years since that day (12?!), but the memory is as real to some as if it were just last week. I know much speculation has risen about the event in recent years--an inside job, a government conspiracy, etc., but the fact of the matter is that a tragedy happened that day. Many, many lives were lost. Families were never the same. An entire skyline was forever altered. And the United States of America was frightened.
But only for a moment.
The USA is a survivor. She picks herself up, dusts herself off, and she presses on. Brave men and women (to whom I'm grateful) fight for her. In desperate times, her citizens band together. She mourns the losses but looks to the future.
No, I can't say how that day truly came about. I can't say that slowly but surely our freedoms won't get taken away. Can't say some of them aren't being taken now. Can't say things will get better. Can't say wars will ever cease or people won't be tragically taken. But I will say that for now, America is the land of the FREE and the home of the BRAVE. And I can assuredly say that I am very proud to be an American. I was that fateful day 12 years ago, and I still am today. I love our country, and I pray to God for our country...
And no, I will never forget that day.
Monday, August 5, 2013
The Bunny Chronicles: Part Two
"If it wasn't for the female human talking gently to me the whole time, I would have absolutely gnawed a hole through that dumb carrier and made my way back to...somewhere...not as scary...
I went from being man-handled (quite literally) by pudgy, sweaty fingers in the airport to being shoved under a tiny seat on a plane (I think that's what they called it). It must have been a day and a half we were on that contraption (and I'm not the exaggerating type of rabbit), and my, was it the bumpiest ride ever! Female Human finally unwedged me from under the seat, and we made a long walk down a tunnel and out into an open room with bright lights and LOTS OF SCARY HUMANS! Too many, if you ask me. We walked some more, and at one point, Female Human and Male Human unzipped my carrier and peeked in. I shivered in the corner, but ya know, it was kind of nice to see their familiar faces.
Just as I was feeling a teeny bit better, we had to get on some type of long, silver monster with blue lights! It was loud and fast, and it stopped a lot and the doors would open and a voice would tell us what stop was next. I did not like it at ALL. When that was finally over, we had to walk up stairs and out into the great, big, wide...OUTDOORS! Yikes! There were cars going by and tall buildings and almost--wait for it--no grass! What kind of horrid place has no delicious, delightful grass?! We hurried across a road and hopped into a car that seemed to just be waiting for us. How did they know we needed a ride? What was this place? I definitely wasn't in Florida anymore.
After a few minutes, we were able to get out of the car, and through the little air holes in my carrier, I could see we were walking into a building. Inside, it was bright...but it was cozy...and quiet. It didn't seem so bad. Maybe we were going back to Miss Stephanie's house! I do miss Miss Stephanie...
We finally reached another door. We walked inside, and Female Human put my carrier down and unzipped it. Seriously? I could come out if I wanted? I cautiously made my way toward the opening...I popped my nose out first, whiskers twitching like crazy...then my head...ears to attention...wriggled my body out...and then...
HOLY SWEET FREEDOM, BATMAN!!! So glad to be out that gosh darn carrier and away from noises and bumpiness and too many people, and for the love of all things edible, please let there be grass here!
Well...it wasn't Miss Stephanie's. It wasn't even Lady Gail's (I miss her, too)...but it had a familiar feeling...something warm and inviting...
I was still a little too nervous to venture too far down the hallway (plus, the humans blocked the end of the hallway with bags and boxes, like I was a common criminal or something, psh puh-lease). But I didn't mind taking in all the new smells around me. Male Human rigged up some sort of cage-like structure in a room for me. It wasn't quite like I had at Lady Gail's, but it was decent. And I had room to move around. And glory hallelujah there was a box of hay, just for me!
I sniffed around for a bit, found the coolest things called 'closets', and then I hunkered down in my crazy chicken-wire-like pen (Male Human kept saying he was gonna build me a 'real' cage, whatever that meant). There was hay and lettuce and pellets...really, all the things I love. This place wasn't so bad, after all.
As Male and Female Human rubbed my head and back, turned off the light, and went to bed, I started to think about my crazy day. It was long and scary and weird, and I felt like I was far away from anything I really knew. But this new place wasn't scary. And I felt ok here. Suddenly, I realized why this place seemed familiar to me. It felt...like...home. And Male and Female Human...well, they kinda felt like home, too. I started to think I'd like it here. A little shiver of excitement ran down my spine, and I kicked my back legs out behind me. If I wasn't in that makeshift cage, I think I would have ran in circles out of sheer joy..."
I went from being man-handled (quite literally) by pudgy, sweaty fingers in the airport to being shoved under a tiny seat on a plane (I think that's what they called it). It must have been a day and a half we were on that contraption (and I'm not the exaggerating type of rabbit), and my, was it the bumpiest ride ever! Female Human finally unwedged me from under the seat, and we made a long walk down a tunnel and out into an open room with bright lights and LOTS OF SCARY HUMANS! Too many, if you ask me. We walked some more, and at one point, Female Human and Male Human unzipped my carrier and peeked in. I shivered in the corner, but ya know, it was kind of nice to see their familiar faces.
Just as I was feeling a teeny bit better, we had to get on some type of long, silver monster with blue lights! It was loud and fast, and it stopped a lot and the doors would open and a voice would tell us what stop was next. I did not like it at ALL. When that was finally over, we had to walk up stairs and out into the great, big, wide...OUTDOORS! Yikes! There were cars going by and tall buildings and almost--wait for it--no grass! What kind of horrid place has no delicious, delightful grass?! We hurried across a road and hopped into a car that seemed to just be waiting for us. How did they know we needed a ride? What was this place? I definitely wasn't in Florida anymore.
After a few minutes, we were able to get out of the car, and through the little air holes in my carrier, I could see we were walking into a building. Inside, it was bright...but it was cozy...and quiet. It didn't seem so bad. Maybe we were going back to Miss Stephanie's house! I do miss Miss Stephanie...
We finally reached another door. We walked inside, and Female Human put my carrier down and unzipped it. Seriously? I could come out if I wanted? I cautiously made my way toward the opening...I popped my nose out first, whiskers twitching like crazy...then my head...ears to attention...wriggled my body out...and then...
HOLY SWEET FREEDOM, BATMAN!!! So glad to be out that gosh darn carrier and away from noises and bumpiness and too many people, and for the love of all things edible, please let there be grass here!
Well...it wasn't Miss Stephanie's. It wasn't even Lady Gail's (I miss her, too)...but it had a familiar feeling...something warm and inviting...
I was still a little too nervous to venture too far down the hallway (plus, the humans blocked the end of the hallway with bags and boxes, like I was a common criminal or something, psh puh-lease). But I didn't mind taking in all the new smells around me. Male Human rigged up some sort of cage-like structure in a room for me. It wasn't quite like I had at Lady Gail's, but it was decent. And I had room to move around. And glory hallelujah there was a box of hay, just for me!
I sniffed around for a bit, found the coolest things called 'closets', and then I hunkered down in my crazy chicken-wire-like pen (Male Human kept saying he was gonna build me a 'real' cage, whatever that meant). There was hay and lettuce and pellets...really, all the things I love. This place wasn't so bad, after all.
As Male and Female Human rubbed my head and back, turned off the light, and went to bed, I started to think about my crazy day. It was long and scary and weird, and I felt like I was far away from anything I really knew. But this new place wasn't scary. And I felt ok here. Suddenly, I realized why this place seemed familiar to me. It felt...like...home. And Male and Female Human...well, they kinda felt like home, too. I started to think I'd like it here. A little shiver of excitement ran down my spine, and I kicked my back legs out behind me. If I wasn't in that makeshift cage, I think I would have ran in circles out of sheer joy..."
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Wonderful Words
Kids are awesome.
Yeah, ok, sometimes they are whiny and needy and stinky and sassy--you get the idea--but all that aside, kids are really cool. They can be sweet and cuddly and fun and silly, and they even have those moments where they can be insightful. And, of course, they sure are good at melting hearts.
Now, my kind of child is in the "4 and under" category. Ya know, the way they are when they still need you, and they can't really talk back quite yet. And they still let you make the rules when you play games ("No, kid, what if I don't want Barbie to say that?"). Hubs and I joke that when we have children, they will be mine from birth to 4, his from 5-15, and then when they get to be older teens...well, we'll deal with that when it comes.
I've worked with children (yes, sometimes even over the age of 4) for some time now in various settings. I'm often so in awe of how they learn and grow. How they react to certain situations. How they formulate thoughts, ideas, and even words. How my simple kiss can "heal" any boo-boo, and my repetitious singing can bring a smile to a sweet face. The excitement of writing his name for the first time; the dance she made up on her own to perform just for me. Children are just a storehouse of wonder and energy. And I love all their little moments. But ya know one of the things I love most about kids? Things they say.
My current nanny job has me at the park quite often. I have all the opportunity in the world to hear the musings of little children. Kids seriously do say the darndest things sometimes. While Lil' Man and I are swinging or sliding or drawing in the dirt with sticks, I always have one ear open to the words and phrases that fly around the playground, always hoping to catch something funny (and sometimes thought-provoking) to jot down in my mental journal. It's amazing what you can hear if ya just give a listen. Some things that make my mouth curl up in a smile or my eyebrows arch up in surprise, and every once in a while, some things that make me say, "Wow, I wish I'd thought of that!"
I hate to keep such hilarity and insightfulness to myself, so in a new segment of my blog, I present to you the first installment of "Wonderful Words of Wee Ones". And seriously, folks, I can't make this stuff up.
1. 3-year-old boy: "I'm full of hungry." (I feel ya. Been there, too, kid.)
2. 6-year-old girl (in the MOST deadpan voice I've ever heard): "Yesterday at Oz Park, I saw boys jump off the swing when they were really high. It was exciting."
3. 4-year-old girl, while playing "ice cream store": "You can have vanilla, chocolate, vanilla, sprinkle...or vanilla." (Apparently, someone got an extra shipment of vanilla this week.)
4. 6-year-old boy: "Why do I have to go to my work meeting every two hours?!" (I think someone has been hanging out with his workaholic parent.)
5. "I just farted! Do you smell it?!" (I'm not even gonna preface this one. We all know that was an 8-year-old boy.)
6. 2-year-old girl in reference to her infant sister: "Mama, can we try hanging Iris?" (Soooo relieved when I realized she was referring to giving the baby a go at the monkey bars; also relieved that the mom nixed both options.)
7. 5-year-old black boy to his white friend: "Come on, brother!" (Too cute!)
5-year-old's twin sister to her brother: "Go away! You aren't my brother anymore!" (Not so cute. Still funny. Jealous much?)
8. 5-year-old boy to a 4-year-old girl wearing oversized purple latex gloves (Seriously, like Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory): "Uh, what are those gloves for?"
Girl: "They are from the dentist."
Boy: (incredulously) "Why are you wearing them?"
Girl: "I just don't want to take them off. They're soft." (Duh.)
9. 6-year-old girl, while running away from her friends: "I don't want you to talk to me for the rest of my life!" (Girls can be so mean! At any age...)
10. And one of my all-time favorites, said by a 4-year-old girl indignantly to her friends: "Trust is listening and love. You aren't being listening or loving!" (Wise beyond her years? I think so!)
Well, that's all for today, friends! But don't worry, I've got more of these gems stored up for future use. In the meantime, take a listen, see what "wonderful words of wee ones" you hear. Ya know never know what you might learn...or what just might brighten your day. :)
Yeah, ok, sometimes they are whiny and needy and stinky and sassy--you get the idea--but all that aside, kids are really cool. They can be sweet and cuddly and fun and silly, and they even have those moments where they can be insightful. And, of course, they sure are good at melting hearts.
Now, my kind of child is in the "4 and under" category. Ya know, the way they are when they still need you, and they can't really talk back quite yet. And they still let you make the rules when you play games ("No, kid, what if I don't want Barbie to say that?"). Hubs and I joke that when we have children, they will be mine from birth to 4, his from 5-15, and then when they get to be older teens...well, we'll deal with that when it comes.
I've worked with children (yes, sometimes even over the age of 4) for some time now in various settings. I'm often so in awe of how they learn and grow. How they react to certain situations. How they formulate thoughts, ideas, and even words. How my simple kiss can "heal" any boo-boo, and my repetitious singing can bring a smile to a sweet face. The excitement of writing his name for the first time; the dance she made up on her own to perform just for me. Children are just a storehouse of wonder and energy. And I love all their little moments. But ya know one of the things I love most about kids? Things they say.
My current nanny job has me at the park quite often. I have all the opportunity in the world to hear the musings of little children. Kids seriously do say the darndest things sometimes. While Lil' Man and I are swinging or sliding or drawing in the dirt with sticks, I always have one ear open to the words and phrases that fly around the playground, always hoping to catch something funny (and sometimes thought-provoking) to jot down in my mental journal. It's amazing what you can hear if ya just give a listen. Some things that make my mouth curl up in a smile or my eyebrows arch up in surprise, and every once in a while, some things that make me say, "Wow, I wish I'd thought of that!"
I hate to keep such hilarity and insightfulness to myself, so in a new segment of my blog, I present to you the first installment of "Wonderful Words of Wee Ones". And seriously, folks, I can't make this stuff up.
1. 3-year-old boy: "I'm full of hungry." (I feel ya. Been there, too, kid.)
2. 6-year-old girl (in the MOST deadpan voice I've ever heard): "Yesterday at Oz Park, I saw boys jump off the swing when they were really high. It was exciting."
3. 4-year-old girl, while playing "ice cream store": "You can have vanilla, chocolate, vanilla, sprinkle...or vanilla." (Apparently, someone got an extra shipment of vanilla this week.)
4. 6-year-old boy: "Why do I have to go to my work meeting every two hours?!" (I think someone has been hanging out with his workaholic parent.)
5. "I just farted! Do you smell it?!" (I'm not even gonna preface this one. We all know that was an 8-year-old boy.)
6. 2-year-old girl in reference to her infant sister: "Mama, can we try hanging Iris?" (Soooo relieved when I realized she was referring to giving the baby a go at the monkey bars; also relieved that the mom nixed both options.)
7. 5-year-old black boy to his white friend: "Come on, brother!" (Too cute!)
5-year-old's twin sister to her brother: "Go away! You aren't my brother anymore!" (Not so cute. Still funny. Jealous much?)
8. 5-year-old boy to a 4-year-old girl wearing oversized purple latex gloves (Seriously, like Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory): "Uh, what are those gloves for?"
Girl: "They are from the dentist."
Boy: (incredulously) "Why are you wearing them?"
Girl: "I just don't want to take them off. They're soft." (Duh.)
9. 6-year-old girl, while running away from her friends: "I don't want you to talk to me for the rest of my life!" (Girls can be so mean! At any age...)
10. And one of my all-time favorites, said by a 4-year-old girl indignantly to her friends: "Trust is listening and love. You aren't being listening or loving!" (Wise beyond her years? I think so!)
Well, that's all for today, friends! But don't worry, I've got more of these gems stored up for future use. In the meantime, take a listen, see what "wonderful words of wee ones" you hear. Ya know never know what you might learn...or what just might brighten your day. :)
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
The Bunny Chronicles: Part One
"The humid July 4th afternoon in mid-Florida surrounded her as she made her way up the driveway. She entered the house, anxious to see the newest member of her family for the first time, face-to-face. Her father-in-law led her to a dimly lit room and flipped on the light. There, within a quaint wire enclosure, sat a brown rabbit, long ears standing to attention.
'Oh...my...goodness,' she thought, 'that rabbit is HUGE! Where on earth are we gonna put her?!' *gulp*
But its cuteness and sweetness overshadowed the fact that the rabbit was waaaay bigger than she'd imagined. She smiled and assumed her 'bunny voice'--as all good rabbit owners do--and reached in to gently pat her little (or big, rather) fur baby. In that moment, she realized she knew absolutely nothing at all about rabbits. But in the next days to follow, she would learn, by golly, she would learn.
The Bunny Master (aka: her mother-in-law) would teach her everything she needed to know about these small, adorable, shy creatures. Like the Karate Kid, she would sit at Mr. Miyagi's feet and glean as much bunny knowledge as her mind could contain. Minus the waxing on and off and the crane move and the injuries and the roundhouse kicks to the side...
In the course of 5 short days, she learned rabbit eating habits, activities, and grooming techniques. They can't eat iceberg lettuce...they love bananas...they hate being picked up...they have fragile skeletal systems...they need their scent glands cleaned out (*throw up face*)...they have a special kind of fecal matter that they EAT (**double throw up face**)...her rabbit actually was skinny and needed to gain more weight (what?!). Bunny info danced through her brain like fireflies in an empty field. Bunny overload. Good thing bunnies are also cute. And sweet.
When it came time to make the trip back to the Windy City with Miss Daisy the Rabbit, she was a storehouse of knowledge...but she was not quite prepared for what lay ahead at the airport. In the long security line, she stood with her husband while holding a very frightened rabbit in an animal carrier. She tried to act natural (but secretly smiled) as other airport patrons occasionally did double takes into the carrier when they realized that there was a live animal inside. Little children would shyly inch closer and stand on their tiptoes to peer into the bag (she always discreetly lowered the carrier so they could get a better view). All seemed well and good until they approached the x-ray machines. Before she could stop herself from the nonsense that poured out her mouth, she heard herself saying to the TSA agent, 'I have a rabbit in here. She doesn't have to go through the x-ray machine, right?'
'Why, why on earth would they make you put your LIVE animal through an x-ray machine?' she thought to herself.
She was relieved, of course, when she was told no...she could just take the rabbit out and walk through the metal detector with it. Whew. But wait...
She had never picked up a rabbit before! Oh. My. Goodness. Eyes wide, she gazed off into the distance, envisioning what chaos would ensue if the pick up were to go horribly wrong. All she could see was a slow-motion version of Daisy leaping from her arms, accidently scratching her on the way down...her yelling, 'Nooo!!!' (in slow-motion, of course)...TSA agents tackling her to the floor as the rabbit goes charging off, running in between people's legs, tripping children, clawing feet...
'Unless you think she'll run away...' the TSA agent's voice broke her stunned reverie.
'Oh-h,' she stammered, 'Uh, yeah, I think she's too nervous to be taken out right now.'
'Ok, we'll just take you into a screening room instead," he said nicely, as he called out some information on his radio.
She walked with husband and rabbit through the metal detector and waited patiently until someone could take her back to a screening room. It was like waiting to get into Fort Knox. Different agents came over...then went to look for other people...then asked what the gender of the bunny was (why did that matter?)...asked who was the actual owner of the rabbit (she or her husband)...asked the rabbit's blood type (not really, but they might as well have). A male and a female agent finally took her and her scared bunny into a private screening room...and the latex-gloved man reached into the carrier and patted down the rabbit!!! Who pats down a bunny? What possible threat to the airport could she have even thought about hiding in or near a LIVE animal?! Poor, poor bunny.
After the search and (non)seizure, she had her hands wiped down for suspicious materials and was allowed to proceed with her terrified rabbit toward her airport terminal. Once man, woman, and bunny made it safely onto their plane, she breathed a sigh of relief that the entire traveling ordeal was closer to being over. If Daisy could just make it through this one plane ride, one train ride, and one taxi ride (oh, is that all?), they'd be home free.
She sat back in her seat and smiled as she watched her husband carefully slide rabbit and carrier under the seat in front of her. And suddenly thought, 'We had to pay $125 to stick a rabbit under the seat like carry-on luggage?!'
Good thing rabbits are cute and sweet."
In the course of 5 short days, she learned rabbit eating habits, activities, and grooming techniques. They can't eat iceberg lettuce...they love bananas...they hate being picked up...they have fragile skeletal systems...they need their scent glands cleaned out (*throw up face*)...they have a special kind of fecal matter that they EAT (**double throw up face**)...her rabbit actually was skinny and needed to gain more weight (what?!). Bunny info danced through her brain like fireflies in an empty field. Bunny overload. Good thing bunnies are also cute. And sweet.
When it came time to make the trip back to the Windy City with Miss Daisy the Rabbit, she was a storehouse of knowledge...but she was not quite prepared for what lay ahead at the airport. In the long security line, she stood with her husband while holding a very frightened rabbit in an animal carrier. She tried to act natural (but secretly smiled) as other airport patrons occasionally did double takes into the carrier when they realized that there was a live animal inside. Little children would shyly inch closer and stand on their tiptoes to peer into the bag (she always discreetly lowered the carrier so they could get a better view). All seemed well and good until they approached the x-ray machines. Before she could stop herself from the nonsense that poured out her mouth, she heard herself saying to the TSA agent, 'I have a rabbit in here. She doesn't have to go through the x-ray machine, right?'
'Why, why on earth would they make you put your LIVE animal through an x-ray machine?' she thought to herself.
She was relieved, of course, when she was told no...she could just take the rabbit out and walk through the metal detector with it. Whew. But wait...
She had never picked up a rabbit before! Oh. My. Goodness. Eyes wide, she gazed off into the distance, envisioning what chaos would ensue if the pick up were to go horribly wrong. All she could see was a slow-motion version of Daisy leaping from her arms, accidently scratching her on the way down...her yelling, 'Nooo!!!' (in slow-motion, of course)...TSA agents tackling her to the floor as the rabbit goes charging off, running in between people's legs, tripping children, clawing feet...
'Unless you think she'll run away...' the TSA agent's voice broke her stunned reverie.
'Oh-h,' she stammered, 'Uh, yeah, I think she's too nervous to be taken out right now.'
'Ok, we'll just take you into a screening room instead," he said nicely, as he called out some information on his radio.
She walked with husband and rabbit through the metal detector and waited patiently until someone could take her back to a screening room. It was like waiting to get into Fort Knox. Different agents came over...then went to look for other people...then asked what the gender of the bunny was (why did that matter?)...asked who was the actual owner of the rabbit (she or her husband)...asked the rabbit's blood type (not really, but they might as well have). A male and a female agent finally took her and her scared bunny into a private screening room...and the latex-gloved man reached into the carrier and patted down the rabbit!!! Who pats down a bunny? What possible threat to the airport could she have even thought about hiding in or near a LIVE animal?! Poor, poor bunny.
After the search and (non)seizure, she had her hands wiped down for suspicious materials and was allowed to proceed with her terrified rabbit toward her airport terminal. Once man, woman, and bunny made it safely onto their plane, she breathed a sigh of relief that the entire traveling ordeal was closer to being over. If Daisy could just make it through this one plane ride, one train ride, and one taxi ride (oh, is that all?), they'd be home free.
She sat back in her seat and smiled as she watched her husband carefully slide rabbit and carrier under the seat in front of her. And suddenly thought, 'We had to pay $125 to stick a rabbit under the seat like carry-on luggage?!'
Good thing rabbits are cute and sweet."
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Long Time, No See
Well, hello there! Remember me? Probably not. It's been 2 months since I last blogged. Yikes. I had hoped I'd be a little better at this blogging thing. I think Hubs was hoping I'd do better, too. Maybe I'll do better in this next 6 months...
Lots of things have happened in my little world in the past two months. And by lots of things, I actually just mean vacations and a pet to add to our household. Yep, a pet. A pet in our little studio apartment. Don't worry, it's not a Great Dane or anything. But I will tell you about our new pet adventures soon in a reoccurring sub-blog (is that a thing?) on here called "The Bunny Chronicles" (and you thought it was a Great Dane). More on that later!
For anyone interested (and I can clearly see how you are hanging on my every word), here is a breakdown of the past 8 weeks:
*Trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (yes, I actually finished packing in a reasonable amount of time for that trip...and even had time for a pedicure before we headed to the airport!)
*Hubs and I celebrated our first anniversary while we were on our trip! That year flew by! Looking forward to many more years!
*Nothing extremely significant happened for a couple weeks after that. Besides a friend of ours leaving us to move to Colorado. :( (I don't have a picture of her actually leaving. 'Cause that would be weird. And sad).
OH! On a semi-exciting note for myself: I just discovered I have an actual follower of my blog! I mean, I know many of you read what I post via Facebook (and trust me, I appreciate it more than you know!), but I have one, single legit follower of my actual blog! So thank you from the bottom of my heart, One Faithful Follower! You know who you are! :)
'Til next time!
Lots of things have happened in my little world in the past two months. And by lots of things, I actually just mean vacations and a pet to add to our household. Yep, a pet. A pet in our little studio apartment. Don't worry, it's not a Great Dane or anything. But I will tell you about our new pet adventures soon in a reoccurring sub-blog (is that a thing?) on here called "The Bunny Chronicles" (and you thought it was a Great Dane). More on that later!
For anyone interested (and I can clearly see how you are hanging on my every word), here is a breakdown of the past 8 weeks:
*Trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (yes, I actually finished packing in a reasonable amount of time for that trip...and even had time for a pedicure before we headed to the airport!)
*Hubs and I celebrated our first anniversary while we were on our trip! That year flew by! Looking forward to many more years!
**Special thanks to Kayla Dutton Photography for this gem**
*Nothing extremely significant happened for a couple weeks after that. Besides a friend of ours leaving us to move to Colorado. :( (I don't have a picture of her actually leaving. 'Cause that would be weird. And sad).
*Oh, and this happened:
**Special thanks to Hair by Megan for this 'do**
*Then, I got to spend a great week in Michigan! Hubs stayed for a few days, then let me hang out there for a whole week! (I missed him a lot, though!) That week could be summed up in one word: babies. I saw more babies (friends' babies, family babies, my babies from my former job) in that week than an OB doctor sees in a day (maybe that's a large slight exaggeration). But thankfully, I don't mind babies, so it was all good. :) Being with family and friends (and babies!) for a week was a relaxing, soothing breath of fresh air. Of course, I had to hurry home after that, though, 'cause I had to pack...again...to head to...
*FLORIDA! Spent some time with Hubs' family around the 4th of July (and Hubs' birthday...he's getting old...he's only THREE years behind me now...). I was able to experience a couple exciting things on that trip that I've never done before. Sit tight and stay tuned for a future blog about my experiences! ;)
I think that about sums things up! Sorry for a vain entry based solely on the previous 8 weeks of my life. I'll try to not bore you with such things in the future. Just kidding. ;)
OH! On a semi-exciting note for myself: I just discovered I have an actual follower of my blog! I mean, I know many of you read what I post via Facebook (and trust me, I appreciate it more than you know!), but I have one, single legit follower of my actual blog! So thank you from the bottom of my heart, One Faithful Follower! You know who you are! :)
'Til next time!
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Motivation
I'd say spring is officially here. Finally. Took it long enough. But looking outside today at the sunshine and blue skies, the lovely green buds on the trees, I'd say it's here to stay. If it weren't...if it were just teasing me, yet again...I'd have to pick up and go spend a week on the beach in Mexico.
Oh wait, I am going to spend a week on the beach in Mexico! In just three short days (or really, they'll probably be the longest days ever...you know how it is when vacation is just within a fingertips' reach...), Hubs, myself, and another couple will be heading to the airport for our long-awaited trip. This is an end-of-the-school-year-for-Hubs/needing-to-get-a-break-after-the-long-winter/1st-anniversary kind of vacation. All those things rolled into one. And saying "we're excited" would be an understatement. When our plane lands on Sunday, and we drop our stuff off at the resort, you better believe I'm heading straight for the beach. Can't wait to feel the hot sun on my face, smell the salty air, hear the seagulls and crashing waves, and squish the sand between my toes. And no, I don't say all this to make you jealous. I say all this to motivate me. "Motivation for what?" you ask...
The motivation to pack. I hate packing. It feels like it takes me years to pack. Hubs could pack for a month-long trip in about 15 minutes. I, on the other hand, take about a week. And that's just for a 2-day trip. Forget about a week-long trip. (I have no idea how I packed for my 3 and half week trip to France. My mom probably helped me.)
I just never know what I need. What I want. How much. How little. I can't decide what outfits to bring. Do I color coordinate all my clothes so I only have to bring one pair of shoes? Should I bring 3 jackets or 4? How about the kitchen sink? I roll my clothes. I unroll them and fold them. I re-roll them. I pack shoes. Unpack shoes. Put one shoe in one pouch, put the second shoe in a different pouch. Going to Antarctica? I might need a bathing suit. Going to the Equator? Better bring my snow boots. And don't even get me started on toiletries. Packing just ends up overwhelming me so much that I put it off 'til the last minute and then I either stay up way too late the night before leaving, or I am still packing about 2 seconds before I need to walk out the door. And yes, I'm also that girl that occasionally must sit on her suitcase to close it. But then again, I've been known to get all my stuff in one little (albeit, overstuffed) backpack. Explain that one. I can't.
And yes, I know some of you will say, "You should really make a list." I've tried it. Packing lists just aren't my thing. I still make them, but they inevitably do me no good. Maybe someday they'll help.No, probably not. Lord, help me whenever I have kids and have to pack for them, too. We probably just won't go anywhere until they can pack for themselves.
Anyway, I say all this to say, if anyone would like to come pack my bag for Mexico for me, I'd be much obliged. :) If I have no takers, then who knows, maybe this time I'll just pack a bathing suit and towel and call it a day. 'Cause really, what else do you need on the beach?
Ok, who am I kidding, on Saturday at 9:59 p.m. as we are about to head to the airport at 10:00 p.m., I will be putting the last few items in my bag. 'Cause, after all, that's just how I roll.
Oh wait, I am going to spend a week on the beach in Mexico! In just three short days (or really, they'll probably be the longest days ever...you know how it is when vacation is just within a fingertips' reach...), Hubs, myself, and another couple will be heading to the airport for our long-awaited trip. This is an end-of-the-school-year-for-Hubs/needing-to-get-a-break-after-the-long-winter/1st-anniversary kind of vacation. All those things rolled into one. And saying "we're excited" would be an understatement. When our plane lands on Sunday, and we drop our stuff off at the resort, you better believe I'm heading straight for the beach. Can't wait to feel the hot sun on my face, smell the salty air, hear the seagulls and crashing waves, and squish the sand between my toes. And no, I don't say all this to make you jealous. I say all this to motivate me. "Motivation for what?" you ask...
The motivation to pack. I hate packing. It feels like it takes me years to pack. Hubs could pack for a month-long trip in about 15 minutes. I, on the other hand, take about a week. And that's just for a 2-day trip. Forget about a week-long trip. (I have no idea how I packed for my 3 and half week trip to France. My mom probably helped me.)
I just never know what I need. What I want. How much. How little. I can't decide what outfits to bring. Do I color coordinate all my clothes so I only have to bring one pair of shoes? Should I bring 3 jackets or 4? How about the kitchen sink? I roll my clothes. I unroll them and fold them. I re-roll them. I pack shoes. Unpack shoes. Put one shoe in one pouch, put the second shoe in a different pouch. Going to Antarctica? I might need a bathing suit. Going to the Equator? Better bring my snow boots. And don't even get me started on toiletries. Packing just ends up overwhelming me so much that I put it off 'til the last minute and then I either stay up way too late the night before leaving, or I am still packing about 2 seconds before I need to walk out the door. And yes, I'm also that girl that occasionally must sit on her suitcase to close it. But then again, I've been known to get all my stuff in one little (albeit, overstuffed) backpack. Explain that one. I can't.
And yes, I know some of you will say, "You should really make a list." I've tried it. Packing lists just aren't my thing. I still make them, but they inevitably do me no good. Maybe someday they'll help.
Anyway, I say all this to say, if anyone would like to come pack my bag for Mexico for me, I'd be much obliged. :) If I have no takers, then who knows, maybe this time I'll just pack a bathing suit and towel and call it a day. 'Cause really, what else do you need on the beach?
Ok, who am I kidding, on Saturday at 9:59 p.m. as we are about to head to the airport at 10:00 p.m., I will be putting the last few items in my bag. 'Cause, after all, that's just how I roll.
Friday, May 3, 2013
A Moment of Childhood
Face to the blue sky, eyes closed, content smile, a soft breeze whipping through a tangled mess of slightly curled blonde hair, warm sun enveloping the arms...the hands clasped tightly to the metal chain. Legs bending and unbending at the knee, back and forth, back and forth... The blissful laughs and elated yells of children's voices mingling with and then fading into the springtime babble of birds and insects as she soars higher and higher away into her own world of imagination...if only for a few moments...
What is it about the pure, carefree dynamism of swinging? Just you and a simple playground swing. Such a timeless act of innocent childhood, no matter your age. The story above is not of the Jessica of days gone by, not some 23 years ago. No, the story above was the Jessica of earlier this week. No shame here.
Where else would Lil' Man and I be on such a beautiful spring day? The park, of course! The May sunshine beamed down on the park inundated with moms, dads, grandparents, nannies, and children practically from birth to at least 7 years old. Toddlers shakily climbed the slides, little boys kicked soccer balls, girls skittered across monkey bars, babies sat happily in strollers or on moms' hips watching older siblings run, spin, jump, and shout. Perfect, crazy day at a park on a perfect afternoon. Amidst the wood chips and toy trucks, the chubby baby legs and dirty fingernails of rambunctious boys, the hair bows sliding out of girls' hair and the flowing Maxi skirts of chattering moms, sat the towering structure of the metal swing set. Three infant swings on one end, three regular swings on the other. All three infant swings were occupied...this was going to be quite the depressing news for Lil' Man, as swinging has become his favorite park pastime...
But, lo and behold, there was one unoccupied regular swing, residually swaying from some child's recent departure. I hoisted Lil' Man on my hip and made a beeline for the lone swing (I would have let him walk, but his semi-toddling steps would have cost precious time that would surely have ended in a swingless demise for us). We reached the swing in record time, and I plopped down with Lil' Man in my lap. If he had been one of those squirmy wormy types, I probably wouldn't have attempted to swing with him, but no worries with that extremely laid back child. I pressed the soles of my flip-flops into the caked-up dirt, pushed off, and slowly began to pump my legs to send us off on our swinging adventure...
Good gracious, I hadn't been on a swing in forever! I'd almost forgotten how much I love swinging! The wind in your hair, the tightening of muscles as you pump your legs faster and faster, the brief moments of near weightlessness. I'm not sure that I recognized the beauty of a swing when I was 6, but to do it years later, in the busy, stress-filled days of adulthood...well, there is just something somewhat freeing about partaking in a few minutes of lighthearted childhood fun.
I probably would have kept on swinging longer than we did, but I wasn't accustomed to 25 extra pounds of person sitting in the same swing as me. I stopped pumping and slowly slid Lil' Man off my lap. He didn't want to stop swinging, of course, but frankly...neither did I.
Maybe you weren't a swing kind of kid when you were little. Maybe you liked the slide or the sandbox. Whatever it was that you loved as a child, I completely recommend throwing adult decorum out the window sometime, just for a moment, and partaking in a special little piece of childhood. We all can use a break from this crazy, rollercoaster of a ride called being "grown-up" every now and again.
What is it about the pure, carefree dynamism of swinging? Just you and a simple playground swing. Such a timeless act of innocent childhood, no matter your age. The story above is not of the Jessica of days gone by, not some 23 years ago. No, the story above was the Jessica of earlier this week. No shame here.
Where else would Lil' Man and I be on such a beautiful spring day? The park, of course! The May sunshine beamed down on the park inundated with moms, dads, grandparents, nannies, and children practically from birth to at least 7 years old. Toddlers shakily climbed the slides, little boys kicked soccer balls, girls skittered across monkey bars, babies sat happily in strollers or on moms' hips watching older siblings run, spin, jump, and shout. Perfect, crazy day at a park on a perfect afternoon. Amidst the wood chips and toy trucks, the chubby baby legs and dirty fingernails of rambunctious boys, the hair bows sliding out of girls' hair and the flowing Maxi skirts of chattering moms, sat the towering structure of the metal swing set. Three infant swings on one end, three regular swings on the other. All three infant swings were occupied...this was going to be quite the depressing news for Lil' Man, as swinging has become his favorite park pastime...
But, lo and behold, there was one unoccupied regular swing, residually swaying from some child's recent departure. I hoisted Lil' Man on my hip and made a beeline for the lone swing (I would have let him walk, but his semi-toddling steps would have cost precious time that would surely have ended in a swingless demise for us). We reached the swing in record time, and I plopped down with Lil' Man in my lap. If he had been one of those squirmy wormy types, I probably wouldn't have attempted to swing with him, but no worries with that extremely laid back child. I pressed the soles of my flip-flops into the caked-up dirt, pushed off, and slowly began to pump my legs to send us off on our swinging adventure...
Good gracious, I hadn't been on a swing in forever! I'd almost forgotten how much I love swinging! The wind in your hair, the tightening of muscles as you pump your legs faster and faster, the brief moments of near weightlessness. I'm not sure that I recognized the beauty of a swing when I was 6, but to do it years later, in the busy, stress-filled days of adulthood...well, there is just something somewhat freeing about partaking in a few minutes of lighthearted childhood fun.
I probably would have kept on swinging longer than we did, but I wasn't accustomed to 25 extra pounds of person sitting in the same swing as me. I stopped pumping and slowly slid Lil' Man off my lap. He didn't want to stop swinging, of course, but frankly...neither did I.
Maybe you weren't a swing kind of kid when you were little. Maybe you liked the slide or the sandbox. Whatever it was that you loved as a child, I completely recommend throwing adult decorum out the window sometime, just for a moment, and partaking in a special little piece of childhood. We all can use a break from this crazy, rollercoaster of a ride called being "grown-up" every now and again.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Too Short
“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.” ~Mother Teresa
I love this quote. And lately, I have been thinking a lot about the first two lines. People really can be unreasonable and self-centered sometimes. But we are never told to forgive someone only if they deserve it. We don't deserve it, but Christ forgives us...
Anyway, I think I've been thinking about this lately because of some dear friends of mine that have experienced a serious fracture in their family relationship. Now, this is not meant to call them out or nitpick them or even to tell them to fix things...I don't know all of the details...it would be a far cry for me to tell them what to do. But it breaks my heart for them...and it also has been a good reminder for me of forgiveness, love, apology, and a whole slew of other things that can often break relationships when ignored.
When I was younger, I remember being at home one evening and hearing a 20/20 or 60 Minute special of some sort playing in the background as I did homework or ate dinner, whatever the case may have been. The story was about a teenage boy who died in some incident or another. I can still hear his mom's strained, heart-broken voice as she told her story to the interviewer. As tears (no doubt) fell down her cheeks, she said, "As I watched him get in the car that morning, he said, 'I love you, mom'. Those were the last words I ever heard him say." That sentence rocked my 13-year-old mind. I don't remember a single other detail from that story. All I remember is thinking, "If I were to die, I want the last words my parents hear me say is that I love them."
From that moment on I never left the house (or let my parents leave the house) or went to bed without making sure the last thing I said was, "I love you". And I still do that. It's even carried over to others in my life. Hubs, other family, friends. For those who don't understand my ulterior motive, I could see it getting a little annoying and weird. Example:
Me: "Bye. Love you!"
Other person: "Love you, too! Hey, by the way, are you still coming to the <insert event> next week?
Me: "Yep, we'll be there! Love you!"
Other person: "Ok great! Tell <insert person> I said hi!"
Me: "Will do! Love you!"
Other person: *didn't she say that already?* "Uh, yep, love you, too..."
Yes, I realize that could be a bit exaggerated. But then again, not really. Pretty sure similar conversations have actually taken place between me and others. People are gonna know I love them, gosh darn it!
Maybe I do take it over the top sometimes. I'm sure that people understand I love them even if I say it before other things. I don't think that someone is actually going to say upon my death, "The last thing she said to me was 'I love you. Good-bye.' Oh, how I wish she had said it in reverse order!!!" <insert sobbing scene from "The Christmas Story" when Ralphie imagines his future self going blind>
But it's the principle. I just never want my last interaction with someone to be me slinging fiery daggers of angry or hurtful words that I can never take back into his or her soul. I can't even imagine the thought of someone I care about leaving this earth--and knowing that I was too stubborn to forgive or apologize. Yeah, that's right, I went there: people die. We aren't guaranteed our next breath. I don't mean that to sound morbid or to make you live in fear that at any moment you or your loved ones might leave this world. But the reality is that life is way too short to hold grudges, stay angry, be selfish, or to not apologize.
No, I'm not saying that you can't get mad or have disagreements or do something dumb (well, we shouldn't do dumb things, but we do...and we will), but it's what you do after it's all said and done that is important. Do you need to tell someone you forgive them or that you are sorry? Or maybe you just need to make sure someone knows you love them. 'Cause after all, life is just too short.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
What A Pain in My...Knee!
Good gracious, it's been a minute since I last posted! I'm sure many of you are just dying to know what became of my rose water from my previous post. Well, I, in fact, called it: it sat there for about two weeks until Hubs finally persuaded me to toss it. *Sigh*. But I do appreciate those of you who gave me suggestions and links about what I could have done with it had it survived! There's always next time... ;)
Speaking of "next times", the next time I go work out at the gym, I won't be doing squats. Yeah, rose water to squats. That's my segue. Anyway, Hubs has been an excellent trainer in my workout regime these last few weeks that we've been hitting the gym together...but him encouraging me to try some squats was just a little too much. First of all, I apparently have absolutely zero balance. As I attempted to do a proper squat, I kept slowly tipping backwards onto my heels, pushing my toes back toward the floor to no avail. Second, my knees just can't handle it. Yep, I'm one of those people. My knees crack and pop like a bowl of Rice Krispies sometimes at the slightest bend. I walked home from the gym that day with a pain shooting through my right knee...and possibly a bruised tailbone from slipping off the exercise ball mid-crunch...but I'll leave that one alone...
At home, I sat with ice on my knee while drinking my green smoothie and watching "Nashville" from the previous week. And I started thinking about how loathsome and tiresome a knee pain is...or any pain for that matter. How often have we experienced the ache of an over-worked knee, a burn from an stove coil or curling iron, a virus that invades our immune system and runs us over like a semi-truck? How about something simple as a splinter in the thumb or the connection of the door frame with our "funny bone" (sidenote: I wanna know who came up with that name. Not funny AT ALL, Misinformed Elbow-Nicknamer)? What about the searing emotional pain we feel from losing a loved one to cancer or a car accident? The loss of a job, the argument with a friend. Pain comes in many forms and facets. And whether it's big or little, pain affects us all. The truth of the matter is that in this life, on this earth there...will...be...pain. It's not going to end, and it's not going to get better. We are a broken, fallen, imperfect people living in a broken, fallen, imperfect world. But at the risk of me sounding like Debbie Downer herself, let me give you some hope. As I sat there thinking about inevitable pain, I thought about another truth...a beautiful truth...
"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore**, for the former things have passed away. And He who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new."
What powerful and comforting words for those of us who know Christ as our Savior! Someday God is going to make all things new...a new home for us, new bodies...and there will be no more pain. None. I can't even imagine a life completely without pain. Of any kind. No more sickness, no more broken hearts. But that will be a reality someday. Enduring through pain and heartache now doesn't seem as horrible when you look at it in light of eternity. Sure, it's not fun...at all...right now. But knowing what's ahead makes it a little more bearable.
God never promised us life would be sunshine and roses (or daisies, if you happen to love those...which I do), we forfeited that possibility at the Fall, but He promises us His love, faithfulness, holiness, protection, and provision...we just need to trust Him and endure. And someday, when He makes all things new, we'll know it was all worth it.
**emphasis added by author
[Scripture taken from Revelation 21:4-5a]
Speaking of "next times", the next time I go work out at the gym, I won't be doing squats. Yeah, rose water to squats. That's my segue. Anyway, Hubs has been an excellent trainer in my workout regime these last few weeks that we've been hitting the gym together...but him encouraging me to try some squats was just a little too much. First of all, I apparently have absolutely zero balance. As I attempted to do a proper squat, I kept slowly tipping backwards onto my heels, pushing my toes back toward the floor to no avail. Second, my knees just can't handle it. Yep, I'm one of those people. My knees crack and pop like a bowl of Rice Krispies sometimes at the slightest bend. I walked home from the gym that day with a pain shooting through my right knee...and possibly a bruised tailbone from slipping off the exercise ball mid-crunch...but I'll leave that one alone...
At home, I sat with ice on my knee while drinking my green smoothie and watching "Nashville" from the previous week. And I started thinking about how loathsome and tiresome a knee pain is...or any pain for that matter. How often have we experienced the ache of an over-worked knee, a burn from an stove coil or curling iron, a virus that invades our immune system and runs us over like a semi-truck? How about something simple as a splinter in the thumb or the connection of the door frame with our "funny bone" (sidenote: I wanna know who came up with that name. Not funny AT ALL, Misinformed Elbow-Nicknamer)? What about the searing emotional pain we feel from losing a loved one to cancer or a car accident? The loss of a job, the argument with a friend. Pain comes in many forms and facets. And whether it's big or little, pain affects us all. The truth of the matter is that in this life, on this earth there...will...be...pain. It's not going to end, and it's not going to get better. We are a broken, fallen, imperfect people living in a broken, fallen, imperfect world. But at the risk of me sounding like Debbie Downer herself, let me give you some hope. As I sat there thinking about inevitable pain, I thought about another truth...a beautiful truth...
"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore**, for the former things have passed away. And He who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new."
What powerful and comforting words for those of us who know Christ as our Savior! Someday God is going to make all things new...a new home for us, new bodies...and there will be no more pain. None. I can't even imagine a life completely without pain. Of any kind. No more sickness, no more broken hearts. But that will be a reality someday. Enduring through pain and heartache now doesn't seem as horrible when you look at it in light of eternity. Sure, it's not fun...at all...right now. But knowing what's ahead makes it a little more bearable.
God never promised us life would be sunshine and roses (or daisies, if you happen to love those...which I do), we forfeited that possibility at the Fall, but He promises us His love, faithfulness, holiness, protection, and provision...we just need to trust Him and endure. And someday, when He makes all things new, we'll know it was all worth it.
**emphasis added by author
[Scripture taken from Revelation 21:4-5a]
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
A Rose by Any Other Name...
Ok, it's true. I can sometimes be too resourceful for my own good. I don't like things to go to waste, so my wheels always start turning when I'm faced with the plight of an object (or objects) that is about to be thrown to the wayside. Yeah, I might, in fact, need those four empty toilet papers rolls to make a sweet craft. That square of brown paper bag? No, you mustn't throw that out...I could make a thank you card out of it! Oh, let me turn that shirt with a hole into a lovely bird feeder (hey, I don't know, it could happen)! For real, people, the possibilities are endless for reusing and recycling. Thus, enter the most recent object of my attempted craftiness:
A rose. Roses. Well, rose petals to be exact. A week or so ago, I came home to this wonderful and thoughtful surprise from Hubs:
It was complete with a homemade dinner and dessert (sorry, ladies, he's mine)! Well, I so much loved the soft feel of the rose petals under my feet, that I decided to leave them there...but just 'til the next morning. I stared down the hallway at them, and thought, "Those are perfectly good rose petals, yanked off a dozen perfectly good roses. I really hate to just throw them haphazardly away. Hmmm, wonder what I can make with rose petals!" And then the just like that, an idea came to me...
Rose Water! I could make rose water! People make rose water...right?
I actually had no idea what rose water is (besides being the water of roses, I assume). And I had absolutely no idea what uses it has. But by golly, I was gonna make me some rose water!
I gathered up all my rose petals and went on a mad search of the proper way to make rose water.
Ok, so I don't guess I ever really decided if there is a proper way to make rose water. I combined a few different methods that seemed relatively similar to each other. And I actually ended up with two kinds of rose water. Before you know it, I had this:
That's pure, unadulterated rose water on the left and...not as pure (?) rose water on the right. (Sidenote: Those two jars are also victims objects of my resourcefulness. We have like 800 of them stashed in cupboards all over the kitchen.) Surprisingly, the pure rose water didn't smell as good (or look as pretty) as the other. But, either way, I did it! I successfully made two jars of rose water!
I'm sure you are all wondering now what me and all my craftiness are doing with my rose water...
Absolutely nothing. I still have no idea what to use rose water for. And in about two weeks or so, Hubs will probably look at the two jars collecting dust on the counter and say, "Soooo are we gonna use this for anything?" And I will probably have nothing to say.
But I had set out to save those perfectly good rose petals from certain waste and doom. And save them I did.
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