Never Ever Dull
With every conversation, I always seem to end with "Never a dull moment"....our lives are rich, complex, and beautiful stories. Join me in laughing about everyday things and appreciating life-bumpy roads and all.
"I told you to get this tank checked, " he barked at me in his thick Russian-esque accent. I lifted my head and tried to nod but didn't want him to see the stinging tears already welling in my eyes. I couldn't bear to hear him talk to me like that. It was the Roto-Rooter guy. I had summoned him again to help me out with our septic tank, one of the many problems on my gotta-fix-now-as-in-yesterday list of major troubles. A week or two had gone by and I still hadn't called to change our septic and connect it to the city's sewer system. All our pipes were cracking and falling apart. They were 100 years old and this septic professional had given me a huge lecture about the situation.. I was frustrated. Yes, I now had come to the realization that the 1912 arts and crafts home that had good bones also had a plethora of major problems: plumbing, no a/c upstairs, absolutely no insulation, no working appliances,... and I could go on and on. The kids and I moved into a home we'd never seen and we were left there to figure things out for ourselves. Four kids, a golden retriever who had a disorder that made her wiggle while she walked, and a three-legged cat named Tripod.were in this with me. It was an odd time to say the least. My marriage had taken a bizarre turn and ended and we were in a house that even Chip and Joanna from Fixer Upper would've just bolted off the set shaking their head at the obvious problems. I felt like my life was in shambles outwardly and inwardly. I went off everybody's radar. I only talked to two or three people. I couldn't share the turmoil of what I was living through with this house and in my heart.. I struggled with what was real and not real in my marriage. I look back at photos taken of me and see eyes are empty.. I was very lost and searching. And I as was doing this, I gutted and restored this home. During that time, I came across a quote from CS Lewis that talked about God changing us as if we were a house. That quote resonated with me because I got it from the workmanship perspective. I had to peel back layer upon layer of linoleum on the kitchen floor. Similarly, I was having to peel away the plans I had firmly cemented in my brain. Plans that carefully detailed each step of the rest of my life. Just as I removed several layers of vinyl, I saw a glimpse of wood. Not just any wood, heart pine planks. A true find in a renovator's world. I was inspired to keep up the demolition work and then to shine those boards until they gleamed. They were there the whole time but so much had covered up their beauty. I began to see God changing my life in ways that I can't explain. I was totally gutted inwardly and that was an incredibly difficult time for me. Yet, God was creating a new work in me and as scripture says: He will be faithful to complete it. No one wants to go through the gutting and demolition process. It's painful. Yet, I am thankful for those steps. All along the way, I gave up more and more of the way I wanted things to go and surrendered to His beautiful plan. I just wanted to patch things up and be content with a simple cottage...but He has bigger plans I think I'm on my way to being a mansion. =) "Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself." C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
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It appeared as a typical school night: me calling out biology review questions to the SeriousAthlete and watching KazKid chase down Banks to retrieve his black Nike sock dangling from the furry puppy's mouth. Then, one boy tosses the reclaimed sock up onto the ceiling fan blade. More socks stolen, more socks rescued, more socks on the fan, and one perplexed puppy in awe of the socks dangling from above.. I was just beginning to wonder about how odd our family might appear when my cell rang. The Oldest was ready to share her survival story from her grand adventure to Walmart. [Sidenote: We always opt for Walmart over Target when faced with a situation like this I'm not sure why...but it's just understood..} Text received from the Oldest earlier in the day: Not only did the Oldest pick up those necessities, but also other items that were on a list of "needs" from our friends in Haiti: Swedish fish, a filter for a truck, Cheez-its, marshmallow creme, a specific cherry danish found in the pastry section from Walmart, baking supplies, Chai tea packets, Ghiradelli chocolates, colored paper, Mountain Dew and 100 pairs of flip flops. Yes, 100. She shares that Self-Checkout was the way to go with her carts full of "things". Packing her suitcase as she chats, she mentions she's never packed for Haiti without me sitting on the bed advising her on how to get everything stuffed in her suitcase and carry on. A tender moment to say the least. Separated by 9 hours of driving on I-40, we both miss those times. She's grown up and I'm really thankful I get to see how richly I've been blessed. As we finish up helping her to "virtually pack" all these things requested by the great folks serving in Haiti, I tell my daughter not to worry too much. She's got plenty of padding and nothing will break! You have to have a sense of humor when you know your suitcases will be the ones selected at the security checkpoint. Truck filter and feminine hygiene products?! Oh, well. She's off to another adventure and I'm off to find a way to get the socks down from the fan blades. #Nevereverdull =) I should have considered the evidence but I didn't. About a year ago, my Oldest started a remote position for a ministry based in Tennessee. Since she was living with 7 roommates a block or two from NC State's campus, her house was always buzzing with activity. She asked if she could "camp out" during the day to get her work done. It wasn't a problem at all. None of us were there during the day except our furry 78 pound puppy, Banks, and he'd love the company. But the funny thing was what I saw on a daily occurrence. Each afternoon I came in the door, the Oldest was gone and only gum wrappers or an empty coffee mug remained as evidence that she had even been there. Yet, I found one thing odd. Every day, I'd find my comforter and sheets pulled back and pillows in random places on my iron bed. I'd think what a sweet gig it to work remotely and get your job done all while resting in a bed. So very different from my world in Classroom 3126. Other than that, I didn't give it much thought. There are always plenty of other things to keep my brain occupied. However, a recent event caused me to re-examine what was actually occurring back then. Last week, I sat on the sofa. Ok, that may not sound earth-shattering to you, but in my world of running around, homework, dog-walking, and domestic management duties, it's rare. As I just sat there in the peace and quiet, I heard what sounded like the rumblings of thunder. I glanced outside and saw sunny Carolina blue skies. No storms had been mentioned in our forecast. I heard it again. A long pause. Then, again. It almost was shaking the house. I rushed upstairs and just stared at the scene that played out before me. The blur was running....make that bolting from bed to bed, grabbing bedding in his mouth and moving it. Unsatisfied, he'd gallop to the next bedroom and repeat the events.. Each room looked like a twister had touched down on the bed (Disclaimer: TheSeriousAthlete's room looked the same...it always looks that way). He reminded me of the Kentucky Derby when the gates release the penned up eager horses. I'd never seen this side of him before. We always call him crazy, but this took him to a whole new level. He was wild and resembled the Muppet character, "Animal".. Wide-eyed and shaggy hair sticking straight out like a bad 80's hairstyle with all that spray, he just looked at me. I started putting all the pieces together: the pillows on the floor, laundry baskets flipped over, abandoned socks in peculiar places.. It's been Banks all along. I quickly flash backed to the days of the Oldest working in my home. Oh, dear. I gave her grief for taking it easy in my bed back then. It was Banks (or as I shall refer to him when we find bedrooms discombobulated)...Animal. Well...I'm not sure about that "mosquitos" part to be perfectly honest with you. That's even a stretch for me. A couple of years ago, I read a book by author and speaker Ann Voskamp. It was a game changer for me. Throughout the entire book, she weaved in the theme: to be thankful first. Of course, in Ann Voskamp's eloquent style, she included a key phrase: Eucharisto precedes the miracle. "Eucharisto" is the Greek word meaning "to give thanks". Her point: you have to be thankful here in the present....being thankful in this moment for whatever is going on in your life before you can truly grasp the beauty of the miracle. Sounds simple, but let's be real. We all have moments, days, weeks, and seasons where we're pulling up our boot straps and stomping through a rough terrain of obstacles that we didn't have in our plans. Yet, being thankful for even those obstacles is key. Maybe those annoying and frustrating things that are placed in your life are barriers preventing you from harm or perhaps they're equipping you to handle a situation that might arise later. This week, a fiend was having one of those "feel like nothing is going right" moments. To encourage her, I said, "Be thankful for the fleas." She looked at me like a was a five headed alien. I quickly realized I needed to recount Corrie Ten Boom's story: adapted from The Hiding Place: The barracks where Corrie ten Boom and her sister Betsie were kept in the Nazi concentration camp Ravensbruck were terribly overcrowded and flea-infested. They had been able to miraculously smuggle a Bible into the camp, and in that Bible they had read that in all things there were to give thanks, and that God can use anything for good. Corrie’s sister Betsie decided that this meant thanking God for the fleas. This was too much for Corrie, who said she could do no such thing. Betsie insisted, so Corrie gave in and prayed to God, thanking Him even for the fleas. Betsie and Corrie would often quietly share passages from the Bible with the other prisoners, ever mindful to be careful to avoid being overheard by the guards. If caught, the punishment would be unthinkable. Even without provocation of this kind, the guards regularly assaulted the women. Over the next several months a wonderful, but curious, thing happened. They found that the guards never entered their particular barracks. This meant that while in the barracks the women were safe from assault. It also meant that they were able to do the unthinkable, which was to hold open Bible studies and prayer meetings in the heart of a Nazi concentration camp. Through this, countless numbers of women came to faith in Christ. Only in the end did they discover why the guards had left them alone and would not enter into their barracks. It was because of the fleas. Thanking God for fleas may seem just plain crazy. But yet, developing a heart of thanks for whatever we may encounter is what matters most. I'm a work in progress....striving to mold my heart into one that reflects my desire to be thankful for everything. There's always, always, always something to be thankful for. With her white blonde hair (she used to change her hair color like she was a member of the color-of-the-month club), my wise friend said, "Life gives you friends. Some are friends for the road. Some are friends for the heart." I didn't get the depth of her thought processes until I lived through more of life and all the experiences it brings. But I get it now. Back in Tennessee, I had to keep so much to myself. I didn't want my kids to see me crumble like a Nature Valley bar so I kept going. But one day, it all hit me like a freight train. I had gathered all these papers that spelled out the reason for my divorce and needed to get them out of the house. I walked into Bank of America. I signed the necessary paperwork for a safety deposit box and the nice older lady guided me through the heavily locked doors into the vault. She led me to my very own large metal box and gave me a key. I paused. I asked if I could have a minute before placing everything in the box that slid out ever so gently. She nodded and stood there. But the wave hit me like a tsunami and I couldn't stop the flood gates. I felt like a crumpled lump just sobbing. But then I heard someone crying. The bank employee was sitting on the floor beside me weeping. She had no idea what I was going through., but she did the best thing for me at the time: to be present. That's a friend for the road. Friends for the heart are the ones that you invest in and they invest in you. They're the ones that you share memories and conversations with and revisit those all the time. Some of those conversations can be tough and messy. The words speak truth and sting at times, but without that honesty, you would be left with only a friend for the road. Just the other day, my post college roommate texted that she would be driving through Raleigh with her family and wondered if we could grab a quick breakfast. As only friends for the heart do, we sat together for over an hour. cutting right to the things that matter most in our lives. A little bit of fluffy conversation at first to catch up on life's most recent events. But then, almost like the walls in Jericho, trust wins and my protective fortress breaks down in chinks. Our conversation is real and I have no hesitations in revealing my innermost thoughts. A friend for the heart listens and simply gets you without you second guessing if you should have shared so much. It also is very hard to say good bye to those friends for the heart folks. Your hugs are tighter since you know how much they mean to you. It's important to have friends for the road and for the heart. I've been blessed with both. And I've been double blessed when what I thought would be a friend for the road becomes a friend for the heart. =) |
AuthorFun-loving mom to 4 kids and 1 big puppy. Fifth grade teacher of amazing little people who have never ending things to share with me. Love to discuss Jesus, diy projects, and life. Trying to keep it simple: Love Jesus, love people. Archives
December 2021
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