Category: More Slices of Life

Wellp, it’s been a great day.  We had the loveliest drive to Canada.  Yes… it’s a drive –but always worth it.  The autumn leaves were spectacular (probably not as they would be in the New England states, but incredibly beautiful nonetheless).  With each turn of the road, it was like we were continually entering a new and better showcase at an art exhibit of priceless masterpieces.

Those who know Wes know that he always carries his camera to capture the changing seasons and priceless pics wherever he goes.  I know, I know… lots of people around here think he got that first digital camera so that he could snap thousands of images of the little dolly when she was born.   And while that’s true… another truth is, he really can’t pass up the masterpieces the LORD creates each day.  When morning gilds the skies…  for the beauty of the earth… and so on and so on.  Wes takes pictures of beautiful countrysides, sunsets, storm clouds, babies sleeping, flowers blooming, winter trees, spring trees, summer trees and autumn trees… and children in tire swings and little ones with chocolate-chip cookie faces and jelly smiles.  I attempt to write or describe what I see because I’m not so good at taking pictures.

So we drove along admiring the incredible colours.  Wes bought me a top of the line food processor in Canada.  Well, first he had to buy me a canal and a post… but then he bought me that top of the line food processor.  I had to wait a couple of hours to try it out –my mouth was too numb and I didn’t want to embarrass Wes at the “food-court” by drooling as I tried out the new food processor.  In a couple of weeks he will take me back to Canada (yes, for more photo ops) to get a custom made top-of-the-line cover for my food processor.  It’s going to match my other appliances perfectly (so I’m told!) and I would even notice a difference (again, so I’m told).

People wonder why we go to Canada for  (okay, okay… I’ll try and act smart here) dental work.  Simple.  We found a doc we really like and he charges less than docs around here and does excellent work (we think).  I get a full day’s date with Wes and Wes gets lots of photo ops.  Anyway, I had had the root canal done already and so a post put in today to support the build up and crown for my tooth (or what was a partial tooth).  Since I really do need a new food processor (as in machine/appliance) and this is as close as I am going to get to one at this point, I decided to call the new tooth a food processor.  I mean, it really is, after all.  I was a bit concerned that Wes would need to see a cardiologist when the nice receptionist handed him the food processor bill.  He gently asked if the appliance cover next week would be additional, and she replied, “O, yes… what she has now is temporary — you can take care of the completed crown payment at your next visit.”
He never frets over stuff.  I guess that’s why I can tease about comments or thoughts he might have. A couple of hours later he was still stopping for one more tree… and I was stopping for ibuprophen and a grandemocha… whip? yes, please from S’bucks.

We were both happy with our treats.

I can hardly write today as I am giddy with excitement over an appointment I have tomorrow morning.  I am considering all the delightful things that are equal in value… a used car… a Bosch mixer and *all* the attachments.  A computerized sewing machine… well a low end machine, anyway. A digital camera and a vacation spot to take pics. A new wardrobe (*not* from a thrift store, eBay or Craig’sList).  A new keyboard for Kathryn.  A new computer for her as well as a printer, paper, and a maid (to replace the one we have ~wink~) for a month.  O, the list is endless –the possibilities are endless.  I was thinking of all the jewels that could be fitted into a crown.  But then… the crown I am getting won’t have space for jewels.  Hmmm, too bad.

A crown is like buying a new transmission for a car.  Or repairing the septic system for the house.  It’s the best thing you can do with that amount of money when you need to solve a transportation or storage (?) problem… but you just can’t show everyone the delightful new purchase.  You also cannot invite everyone to look in your mouth as you show off your new Bosch mixer + attachments, computerized sewing machine, digital camera,  wardrobe … crown (with no jewels).  When I think of a crown I’d like to wear, the one I’m getting doesn’t immediately thrill and excite me.  It’s no where near the style I was hoping to wear.

So, the next time we visit… I may want to show you my neat new acquisition.  But I won’t.  I really would suggest, however, brushing and flossing and whatever else you can think of adding to the list of practices that prevent wearing crowns you can’t or won’t show off.

I guess I can delight in my community service or our sort of philanthropic ventures.  You see, I just marvel over the sacrifices made for the betterment and enrichment of many dentist’s families. I suppose that in my self-sacrificing denial of new mixers, sewing machines, cameras, vacations and/or a myriad of other delights, my husband’s been instrumental in the provision of all those things and more for a whole lot of wives.  Mygoodness, I will think of my husband in a whole new light from this day forward!  As if I don’t already totally admire his sacrificial living and giving nature, I see a new dimension I hadn’t recognized heretofore.  I will practically skip into that office and cling to that chair in the morning at the prospect of the marvelous privilege we have to better the lives of the family members of that dentist.  O, the prospect is so inspiring, and the blessings innumerable, I wish I could go there this moment!  I wonder what he would say if I announced my arrival:  I’ve come here today  to bless you.   (If you can say that and sound like Nancy Campbell… bonus!)

In the ongoing saga of attempting to set up an online “store,” we continue to find out that there’s just “one more thing” to take care of before we can do the next thing and “just one more thing” till that can happen and so on. So, yesterday, we were sitting at the bank opening another account to handle merchant stuff and business transactions. This was our second trip because we learned during the first visit that we needed to have the business name registered… that we could not use the business license we’ve had for many years to open the account because the name didn’t match.

Okay… so over to the Department of Revenue. Once there, we filled out the necessary paperwork and gave them what they really wanted: $. O, I know they wanted us to fill out the necessary paperwork to legally conduct another business in this state, but the bottom line is always the bottom line: money. We don’t argue with the IRS… remembering that regarding money and the IRS: just run it together: the irs. Theirs.

So we were sitting at the bank and the accounts rep asked to see photo ID, and so Wes and I handed her our driver’s licenses. She looked at his, handed it back; looked at mine – sat back and said, “ooooo, that’s different!” I put on my glasses to see what had happened to my license (go ahead, laugh). I laughed out loud and said, “Yes… it is.” In that pic, my hair is down, my hair is dark brown and I look… yes: “ooooo, that’s different!” So, yes, me today, me then… oooo, that’s different. My weight is not accurate either. It wasn’t then and it isn’t now. But do you think I am going to go over to the Department of Licensing and get a new license? No. O, c’mon… you wouldn’t either. And it’s not just the money. It’s nostalgia. That, and I have a year and a half to carry around this “ooooo, that’s different!” picture. Besides, I sort of miss that girl and, actually, it’ll do my heart good to see that picture from time to time. It’ll have sort of an aerobic effect on me to see it. My heart will race and I’ll think omygoodness, my time’s slipping away pretty fast and I’ll get a lot of exercise chasing memories!

So, the paperwork’s done, the name’s registered and in place. Now all we need is something to market and we’ll be online! ~wink!~

ooooo, that’s different

I keep thinking… no, I *cannot* be in this season.  As if any day now, things will get back to normal.  I will revert back to normal coloured hair, I will have tight upper arms, and the skin of my neck will resemble the skin of my forearm once again.  I keep thinking that any day now, I will pick up my Bible and see the words clearly… that I will once again shop for a pregnancy-test kit or shop for maternity clothes and nursing clothes.  I keep thinking that any day now… I won’t be in this season.  And then, I wake up and see that it’s too late… while I was looking the other way, one season faded and another dawned.  I find it confusing.

And then I think on the Word.  And I see.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;  A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;  A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak…”   Ecclesiastes 3.1-7

When I was younger, I waited and waited for the tomorrow’s.  I waited and waited for better days, brighter horizons, bigger things, more excellent ways.  I think I kept thinking that If I learned enough, worked hard enough, or tried hard enough, I’d get it all together and keep it all together.  And then more time went by.  And wishing for tomorrow, I missed a lot of yesterdays.  That’s why I can so emphatically say today, there are no tomorrows.  Only todays and yesterdays.  No tomorrows.  For when tomorrow comes―if tomorrow comes― then it’s today. Or yesterday.

So, the LORD is blessing me with a bit of melancholy understanding.  A few times a year in the last several years I have thought I might be back in that sweet season of child-bearing.  So much so, that sometimes I could almost see the eyes and feel the soft breath of a snuggling infant.  I could almost smell that delicious, almost intoxicating, sweet fragrance of a newborn.  And then reality would set in and I would realize over again that that season has been slowly passing from my view ―soon to become a precious memory and not a present reality.

The baby… the little dolly―the little gift of the LORD… has traveled a bit further down the path.  No longer can I easily carry her from place to place or snuggle her to sleep in my arms at night.  No longer does she need help with the necessities of life and no longer does she need training wheels on her little bicycle.  The sweet consolation is that she still needs to be daddy’s baby… and I think he needs that too.

I know I do.

I spent the day yesterday with the olders… the olders, meaning the four oldest at home (and that, thankfully, included Timothy). We sort of followed an oft taken course… Penney’s in town, the bank and Starbucks. Our little town really only has one viable clothing store and we’re thus forced to drive a tad bit to surrounding towns to do any significant shopping. I guess we still do get into enough shopping trouble locally, so, I suppose it’s a good thing the great stores require a bit of time. Time and planning.

My boys know there’s been some discussion of clothing (in the blogosphere and after our time at the Deer Lake Conference last weekend). So Samuel knew he’d hit a hot button by pulling out a black T-shirt with a inscribed message: You know you want me.

Instantly… the modesty “issue” flared and flashed before me and remains on my mind. It seems as if, to one degree or another, it’s always on my mind. I sometimes wonder if it’s because it’s been an oft discussed topic in our home and elsewhere throughout the years. Truly, I wonder if it’s because we have daughters or if, really, it’s because we have sons. Then I wonder if it’s not also bcz I and our daughters, by conviction, wear dresses (and not pants). Whatever the case, the matter of modesty and feminine dress (and I don’t use the term interchangeably) is, or ought to be, a matter of concern to believers.

I think seeing that shirt, having just been through the little girls’ department and seeing nothing but downsized-Hollywood clothing. I was grieved as I looked at the marketing being foisted on little girls and forced on mothers attempting to dress little girls. I was grieved bcz I have a little daughter whom I would never ever set as a sex object before men and yet were I to purchase and dress her in much of what I saw yesterday I would be doing just such a thing. Little girls… women dressed in the attire of harlots. There is clothing that is an abomination. Sadly, it’s everywhere.

I don’t expect “modesty” to be a matter of concern to those outside “the faith” bcz, let’s face it, truly they serve the gods of this world and do not have a walk with the Living LORD… so, how can modesty (or anything else, really) matter much? And while I’m all for “mainstream” retailers creating and marketing “modest clothes,” I don’t really expect they’ll do so on a large scale *unless* they see a huge market and I certainly don’t anticipate retailers’ versions of modest clothes to be genuinely modest. And until the “church” gets into the Word of God and out of the entertainment business, those who honestly seek modest clothing will represent such an insignificant fraction of the retail dollars, it won’t make fiscal sense to cater to the small sect. O, sure, there are retailers who market modest clothing — and we occasionally find them — but, generally speaking, it’s the handful of catalog stores that carry lines of modest clothing.

After our local jaunt, we headed to the thrift stores and Marshall’s. Timothy was anxious for me to find some new dresses or whatever I needed… he was treating. I looked… and looked and after pulling out a couple of dresses that were identical to ones I already have, I realized I didn’t really need anything. Later we headed over to Marshall’s (a store where one can find marvelous deals on men’s and baby’s clothing and housewares). After looking through racks and racks of immodest clothing, I told Timothy that, really, I just needed a bath mat. And a can opener.

In the back of my mind was the visual of that inscription: You know you want me… It seemed throughout the day I was seeing shoppers wearing (and buying more) clothing that stated that message: You know you want me (and I’m available). I felt sad as I watched and have, since then, thought of the girls in the different stores… already dressed in come-hither clothing, they were buying more of the same — perhaps intentionally stating the message and perhaps hoping for a response. Trouble is, once the girls become aware of some guy’s passion toward them they’re often angry and resentful of the attention they receive. That’s the remarkable part of women’s attire. It is so powerful… and sends such strong messages. Many women desperately crave the show-stopping attention and then abhor it and the feeling of being an object of lust when they receive it. They appear to be confused by the reactions they receive and seem oblivious of mixed signals they’re giving. But they’re not oblivious. Ignorant, but not oblivious.

I pray others will join in taking a stand for modest clothing. Next on my list will be modest *and* feminine clothing.

So… remember that sparkling clean oven I had just a few nights ago?  Well… it’s not any longer. As if to reenact the barbecue effect in the kitchen tonight, I dumped the contents of pecan pie bars on the oven floor.  So, that’s why the oven is no longer sparkling clean.  And why there’s a semi-melted plastic garbage sack full of burnt offerings out in the tall can.

Clean ovens: Vanity of vanities… all is vanity.

I have seen all the works that are done under the sun;
and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.”
Ecclesiastes 1.14

It’s a dreary day here in the Pacific Northwest. It’s cold, too. The Seattle area didn’t buy tickets to the global warming event, nor offer to host it. Apparently.

It’s day nine of the Umpteenth and One diet. I’m drinking a mocha. No one bought it for me, it’s not a reward for changed behaviour and no one is forcing me to drink a special treat. I just made it… and am drinking it. I didn’t get a “grande-mocha… whip? yes” last night. I drank coffee. Just coffee with half&half. That, and the sweetest conversations in a long time. I’d go back tonight if the whole venue could be repeated or at least continued.

We talked… Initially about the shocking stories in the news and the going’s on in our families… and then we shared pictures and stories and it was quite possibly the sweetest evening ever spent with the sisters in our fellowship. We each brought a handful of pictures of the different seasons of our lives and in so doing, briefly told our “life stories” as we described the settings of some of the photos. We’re all works in progress… some further down the road than others, but journeying together just the same. The only thing I wish… that all the sisters could’ve been there. It was intentionally designed to be a reflective sort of evening… the sort of evening that calls for or allows a vulnerability rarely displayed.

I think most of the time we, as women, would like to present the best possible persona of our selves and hope our prior failings, bad hair and manner of dress could just discreetly fade into the shadows of the past. But pictures don’t lie… they reflect all the good and the bad of the choices or lifestyles we intentionally or unintentionally live/lived. Photographs also have a way of revealing progress if we see them in the proper light. I immediately thought of the Sunscreen recording… and wished it were playing in the background. It starts like this…

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.

But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked…

You’re not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum… “

We talked about things going on around us… where we, as women, have been and we attempted to catch a glimpse of where we’re going. I think we walked away realizing… the present is not all that bad, the future not all that scary and the past? It’s just that… days gone by, days we lived and can never repeat. I think we all smiled—glad we learned from those day and sort of sad we couldn’t see some of those sweet days again. I think we all came away with thoughts of endearment for each sister and probably much more compassionate having seen the paths each have traveled to become the women we are today. Just like I couldn’t grasp twenty years ago where I’d be today… though I think I can imagine… but deep down I know I’ve really no idea what the next twenty will bring.

I hope I’ll be sitting at the table at Starbucks with those same sisters looking over photographs and reminiscing about these good old days.