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...at how disconnected I felt all weekend. I went to Dallas to our annual LCMS Texas District Early Childhood Educators Conference, and I had trouble getting my phone to connect to the internet, which meant I was only able to check my email once a day, and I didn't check facebook at all, so that I didn't use too much data at the end of the month.
I felt so...out of touch. I don't know what this surprises me, I know how wired I am, and yet I wasn't expecting this feeling of disconnect. I even had to make up for it a little by texting with C, something I -never- do. I should say, "I need to just remove as much of this technology from my life as possible." But, well I don't want to. I like being connected to old friends, and knowing what's going on in the lives of my family, and feel connected to them because of it. I don't have enough time in my life to engage long phone conversations with all of the people on my facebook page, nor do I have any desire to do so. I like that my phone gives me instant access to all of these things.
*shrug* I honestly don't know the right answer.
I do know I had a great time this weekend. I learned quite a bit and I enjoyed a time of fun fellowship with my coworkers outside of our day-to-day. So I won't let the little bit of disconnect from the rest of my life take that away from me.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Beauty of Simplicity
Often I am amazed at how the Holy Spirit works in my life, when I am struggling to understand a concept, or to show another how I feel it is because I have never experienced it. And then the Spirit puts people in my path to show me what it means to be enfolded in love, to show me exactly what I couldn't figure out on my own.
He gives me the exact right people and situations that I need in order to wrap myself in Him and then share what I have learned. I know that He hears my prayers when these miraculous sendings happen. He helps me see how to express what I feel in a way that is loving and filled with Him, so that I do not harm the object of my struggle.
It is hard to give someone information that is painful to hear in a way that is loving, when you've never been on the receiving end of the same. It is an easy concept, learn from those around you and share the knowledge. It is a beautiful simplicity. Which reminds me of a song (shocking, I know)
The Beauty of Simplicity
by Telecast
It's the beauty of simplicity, that brings me down to my knees
I'll praise you for eternity, and Lord I love you
Because you, you first loved me.
It's the beauty of simplicity, that fills me with eternity
I've tasted your divinity, and Lord I love you
Because you, you first loved me.
And all God's people say
We.... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
And we... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
We love you
It's the beauty of simplicity that brings me down to my knees
I'll praise you for eternity, and Lord I love you
Because you, you first loved...
You gave yourself away, just that I could stay
You took my place in death and rose that I could say
That you are holy and you alone deserve my praise
And all God's people say
We... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
And we... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
We love you
Because sometimes it's all about sharing love, no matter how angry you are, how hurt you are, how much time has passed, who you hurt, who you thought you hurt but didn't, how ugly, or how painful it is, was or will be. It is the beauty of forgiveness, the beauty of simplicity...
He gives me the exact right people and situations that I need in order to wrap myself in Him and then share what I have learned. I know that He hears my prayers when these miraculous sendings happen. He helps me see how to express what I feel in a way that is loving and filled with Him, so that I do not harm the object of my struggle.
It is hard to give someone information that is painful to hear in a way that is loving, when you've never been on the receiving end of the same. It is an easy concept, learn from those around you and share the knowledge. It is a beautiful simplicity. Which reminds me of a song (shocking, I know)
The Beauty of Simplicity
by Telecast
It's the beauty of simplicity, that brings me down to my knees
I'll praise you for eternity, and Lord I love you
Because you, you first loved me.
It's the beauty of simplicity, that fills me with eternity
I've tasted your divinity, and Lord I love you
Because you, you first loved me.
And all God's people say
We.... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
And we... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
We love you
It's the beauty of simplicity that brings me down to my knees
I'll praise you for eternity, and Lord I love you
Because you, you first loved...
You gave yourself away, just that I could stay
You took my place in death and rose that I could say
That you are holy and you alone deserve my praise
And all God's people say
We... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
And we... we love you, we love you Lord, we love you
We love you
Because sometimes it's all about sharing love, no matter how angry you are, how hurt you are, how much time has passed, who you hurt, who you thought you hurt but didn't, how ugly, or how painful it is, was or will be. It is the beauty of forgiveness, the beauty of simplicity...
Friday, January 7, 2011
Yeah...well..okay fine!
I have to wonder sometimes at all the little things that happen in life and why they annoy the crap out of me. I think you get to the point when you just can't not sweat the small stuff. I try really hard to not let it bug me, and I'm lucky to have friends that don't mind listening to me bitch about the little things so that it is easier to let go.
But right now, I just can't seem to get past the little stuff. I finally got my car back, and now it's broken again. No mouse this time, but I have a feeling I'm going to lose the use of my car for a couple of days. I hope not. I'm hoping for the we just need to reboot your car's computer, give us an hour, route. There's more, I could list them all, but that doesn't serve any purpose, except to bring you all down with me, and really what's the point of that.
Nah, I think I'll talk about the joys and the blessings in my life, and maybe I'll not be so bothered by the desire to claw my allergy laden puffy, itchy eyes from my skull. *chuckle*
I really want to talk about K. A few weeks ago we saw her psychiatrist, and increased her meds. I am not a big fan of blaming all her behavior on the meds, but the change in her was marked. I'm happy for her, and the ease of her life when the medicine works right. She knows the difference in herself when she hasn't taken it and it makes her more willing to remember and that gives me hope.
I know I shouldn't, but I lay awake at night from time to time and think about the what ifs. What if she can never be on her own? Am I strong enough to care for her for the rest of my life? I don't know, but what I do know is that she is precious and this time right now she is well, and happy, except for P.E. class when the teacher wouldn't let her get a drink because she was playing while waiting her turn. :)
I have this amazing opportunity to sit on the floor and play a really boring game, that suddenly is fun and funny because I'm playing with K. She has this knack for making everything she's doing fun, even when it's the spelling homework she hates. She laughs freely and loves hugely, and it is catching.
But my blessed life doesn't end there, I have my lovely twelve year old, who is beginning to come into what is a very interesting personality. She's bright, and curious and so incredibly smart. We have these great conversations and I'm starting to see the woman she could become.
I have a husband who wants to enrich our lives and our marriage and it has brought fun and laughter tenfold into our lives. I am fortunate to be in a career I absolutely love, with all of my heart. I am well and truly bless, and the Lord has been very good to me.
Thanks! I needed that reminder that the small stuff is just that, small and though it can feel overwhelming, it doesn't eclipse the beauty that is in my life.
But right now, I just can't seem to get past the little stuff. I finally got my car back, and now it's broken again. No mouse this time, but I have a feeling I'm going to lose the use of my car for a couple of days. I hope not. I'm hoping for the we just need to reboot your car's computer, give us an hour, route. There's more, I could list them all, but that doesn't serve any purpose, except to bring you all down with me, and really what's the point of that.
Nah, I think I'll talk about the joys and the blessings in my life, and maybe I'll not be so bothered by the desire to claw my allergy laden puffy, itchy eyes from my skull. *chuckle*
I really want to talk about K. A few weeks ago we saw her psychiatrist, and increased her meds. I am not a big fan of blaming all her behavior on the meds, but the change in her was marked. I'm happy for her, and the ease of her life when the medicine works right. She knows the difference in herself when she hasn't taken it and it makes her more willing to remember and that gives me hope.
I know I shouldn't, but I lay awake at night from time to time and think about the what ifs. What if she can never be on her own? Am I strong enough to care for her for the rest of my life? I don't know, but what I do know is that she is precious and this time right now she is well, and happy, except for P.E. class when the teacher wouldn't let her get a drink because she was playing while waiting her turn. :)
I have this amazing opportunity to sit on the floor and play a really boring game, that suddenly is fun and funny because I'm playing with K. She has this knack for making everything she's doing fun, even when it's the spelling homework she hates. She laughs freely and loves hugely, and it is catching.
But my blessed life doesn't end there, I have my lovely twelve year old, who is beginning to come into what is a very interesting personality. She's bright, and curious and so incredibly smart. We have these great conversations and I'm starting to see the woman she could become.
I have a husband who wants to enrich our lives and our marriage and it has brought fun and laughter tenfold into our lives. I am fortunate to be in a career I absolutely love, with all of my heart. I am well and truly bless, and the Lord has been very good to me.
Thanks! I needed that reminder that the small stuff is just that, small and though it can feel overwhelming, it doesn't eclipse the beauty that is in my life.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
The Mouse in My Car
Okay, so on Tuesday I went out to my car and noticed an odd smell. No big deal there must be something left behind by the kids in the car somewhere. So I look around and find a milk container. Surely that was the culprit, then went about my day.
After a wonderful experience watching Harry Potter, I ran to a retail store, and the smell was still there. Okay, fine, I didn't find it. I was in the store maybe 30 minutes and by the time I got back out to the car the smell was overwhelming. Okay...fine I call C and he comes down stairs and we begin to clean out the little bit of mess in the car. Still the smell is there. So C pulls up the mat in the front and we found mouse droppings, well damn.
What is it about the Malibu that the mice like? This makes our second mousey visitor. C pulls the panels from around the console and we found a little mouse nest and upon vacuuming it all out and getting the car back together, the smell was still there.
I ran it up to Lamb's and told him my trouble. He went out and sniffed about in the car and said, yup, something has died in there, but I can't help you tonight, I close in an hour. Crap.
So this morning, I took my sad smelly car to Lamb's. They pulled off the panels, took out the seat, took off the door, and sniffed their way to where they thought he might be. Using a camera scope, they found the dead little mouse in... get this, the door frame.
Not the door panel, or the a/c box, or a duct, but in the actual metal frame tube that the car is built around. You know the only metal, save the engine, in my car? The only way to get to dead mouse...cutting the frame open, clean him out and weld it back together.
Enter the insurance company. Thank you, hubby for insisting we have the most comprehensive coverage you can get on a car, sure it's a little expensive, but they are going to pay to take care of what has now been declared a health hazard and provide a rental car and I'm only out fifty bucks.
Yeah...so now I'm going to have dead decaying thing sitting in the frame of my car until Monday when the insurance claims guy goes out and inspects the car, then they will find the best solution for getting out the freaking health hazard, and then... I'll get my sad stinky car back.
*sigh*
After a wonderful experience watching Harry Potter, I ran to a retail store, and the smell was still there. Okay, fine, I didn't find it. I was in the store maybe 30 minutes and by the time I got back out to the car the smell was overwhelming. Okay...fine I call C and he comes down stairs and we begin to clean out the little bit of mess in the car. Still the smell is there. So C pulls up the mat in the front and we found mouse droppings, well damn.
What is it about the Malibu that the mice like? This makes our second mousey visitor. C pulls the panels from around the console and we found a little mouse nest and upon vacuuming it all out and getting the car back together, the smell was still there.
I ran it up to Lamb's and told him my trouble. He went out and sniffed about in the car and said, yup, something has died in there, but I can't help you tonight, I close in an hour. Crap.
So this morning, I took my sad smelly car to Lamb's. They pulled off the panels, took out the seat, took off the door, and sniffed their way to where they thought he might be. Using a camera scope, they found the dead little mouse in... get this, the door frame.
Not the door panel, or the a/c box, or a duct, but in the actual metal frame tube that the car is built around. You know the only metal, save the engine, in my car? The only way to get to dead mouse...cutting the frame open, clean him out and weld it back together.
Enter the insurance company. Thank you, hubby for insisting we have the most comprehensive coverage you can get on a car, sure it's a little expensive, but they are going to pay to take care of what has now been declared a health hazard and provide a rental car and I'm only out fifty bucks.
Yeah...so now I'm going to have dead decaying thing sitting in the frame of my car until Monday when the insurance claims guy goes out and inspects the car, then they will find the best solution for getting out the freaking health hazard, and then... I'll get my sad stinky car back.
*sigh*
Friday, November 12, 2010
Birthday Ponderings
Wanted: One time machine, capable of sending me back in time to inhabit myself 13 years ago, armed with the knowledge I have now.
But Sarah, why would you want to go back?
Ah, because I would make such DIFFERENT choices. I would spend more time watching my children sleep, and sliding down the yellow plastic slide at the park and reading that extra story, and I would have started K on meds a full year earlier. I would have taken more pictures and spent that extra hour at the park even though I was tired and ready to go home, but they weren't. I would have listened to my husbands advice sooner, and been more willing to admit he was right.
Of course there are things I would do the same. I would still vaccinate my children, and I would still have taken time to sleep in on Saturdays and I would still let them climb to the top, even though I was so sure they were going to fall and break an arm. I would still rock them to sleep, and sit bleary-eyed in the doorway of their room listening to them breath as they struggled through the croup. I would still pester their teachers with questions that every mom wants to ask and sometimes never does.
But then again...
I wouldn't have the children I have now. They would be different and I rather like who they are. Even when I have to cut gum out of K's hair or pay the extra $125.00 on my phone bill B racked up using the internet, though maybe I'd have disable the internet from the get go...
Still, I love the crazy mixed up girls in my life and I'm so glad to have celebrated another year of their lives with them.
But Sarah, why would you want to go back?
Ah, because I would make such DIFFERENT choices. I would spend more time watching my children sleep, and sliding down the yellow plastic slide at the park and reading that extra story, and I would have started K on meds a full year earlier. I would have taken more pictures and spent that extra hour at the park even though I was tired and ready to go home, but they weren't. I would have listened to my husbands advice sooner, and been more willing to admit he was right.
Of course there are things I would do the same. I would still vaccinate my children, and I would still have taken time to sleep in on Saturdays and I would still let them climb to the top, even though I was so sure they were going to fall and break an arm. I would still rock them to sleep, and sit bleary-eyed in the doorway of their room listening to them breath as they struggled through the croup. I would still pester their teachers with questions that every mom wants to ask and sometimes never does.
But then again...
I wouldn't have the children I have now. They would be different and I rather like who they are. Even when I have to cut gum out of K's hair or pay the extra $125.00 on my phone bill B racked up using the internet, though maybe I'd have disable the internet from the get go...
Still, I love the crazy mixed up girls in my life and I'm so glad to have celebrated another year of their lives with them.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Strange Rudeness
So let me set the scene for you. I had a bunch of errands to run today and one of them was a quick stop at Hobby Lobby to get some flag paper for Katie's Veteran's Day poster. I get what I need and go stand in the line of six people at the only open register. *sigh*
As I'm standing there, the lady behind me strikes up a conversation. Not an unusual occurrence and I am not bothered by talking to strangers in the store as we all wait in line to buy our things. This conversation took the strangest turn...
Her, small thin, older lady with gray hair going white. "That's pretty paper. 4th of July scrapbook page?"
Me: "Oh, no, I'm helping my daughter make a poster of family and friends that are veterans."
Her: "That's nice. How old is your daughter?"
Me: "Almost nine. Her birthday is this Friday."
Her: "Oh that's nice. Is she your only child?"
Ok, now don't get me wrong, so far this is all innocuous and I have nothing to hide and I'm very proud of my children, and I like to humor old people, because frankly I hope young people will humor me when I'm old.
Me: "No, I have another daughter, she just turned twelve."
At this, the woman's eyes narrowed a bit, and she took in my brown peasant top, ripped jeans, battered converse all stars, tie-dye hair band (the only one I could find, thank you very much) and her eyes stopped on my bare left hand. At this point I got a bit uncomfortable. I have always worried in the back of my mind that people, complete strangers, judge me based on my age and the age of my children and my lack of wedding ring. I don't wear one, because I lost it and haven't gotten around to replacing the thing yet.
Her: "Honey, how old are you?"
All I could do was blink. She looked like a sweet grandma. And to my own astonishment I freaking answered her. "Thirty-one." Not a number I'm ashamed of in the least, I'm quite proud to be 31 and enjoy my life and the gifts I have been given.
That seemed to offend her sensibilities when she did the math in her head. She put her hand on my arm, looked me in my baffled eyes and said, I kid you not, "You need to get married and settle down honey. But then I don't know a man in his right mind that would take such a wayward girl with half grown children."
I'm sorry, what? Wait, did she just say that to me? Really? I stood there dumbfounded. There wasn't anyone in line behind her and the woman in front of me, I think, pretended not to hear, and I was saved from saying something horrible to this nice looking old lady by another cashier walking up and calling her from the line. I paid for my four sheets of scrapbook paper, and went to sit in my car. Mostly I was and am just offended. It's none of her business if I'm married or not. Or how old I was when I chose to bring life into this world.
Honestly, did she think she was doing me a service by voicing her backward opinion? I don't really want to know. Though I think I will make time to go get a new wedding band this weekend.
As I'm standing there, the lady behind me strikes up a conversation. Not an unusual occurrence and I am not bothered by talking to strangers in the store as we all wait in line to buy our things. This conversation took the strangest turn...
Her, small thin, older lady with gray hair going white. "That's pretty paper. 4th of July scrapbook page?"
Me: "Oh, no, I'm helping my daughter make a poster of family and friends that are veterans."
Her: "That's nice. How old is your daughter?"
Me: "Almost nine. Her birthday is this Friday."
Her: "Oh that's nice. Is she your only child?"
Ok, now don't get me wrong, so far this is all innocuous and I have nothing to hide and I'm very proud of my children, and I like to humor old people, because frankly I hope young people will humor me when I'm old.
Me: "No, I have another daughter, she just turned twelve."
At this, the woman's eyes narrowed a bit, and she took in my brown peasant top, ripped jeans, battered converse all stars, tie-dye hair band (the only one I could find, thank you very much) and her eyes stopped on my bare left hand. At this point I got a bit uncomfortable. I have always worried in the back of my mind that people, complete strangers, judge me based on my age and the age of my children and my lack of wedding ring. I don't wear one, because I lost it and haven't gotten around to replacing the thing yet.
Her: "Honey, how old are you?"
All I could do was blink. She looked like a sweet grandma. And to my own astonishment I freaking answered her. "Thirty-one." Not a number I'm ashamed of in the least, I'm quite proud to be 31 and enjoy my life and the gifts I have been given.
That seemed to offend her sensibilities when she did the math in her head. She put her hand on my arm, looked me in my baffled eyes and said, I kid you not, "You need to get married and settle down honey. But then I don't know a man in his right mind that would take such a wayward girl with half grown children."
I'm sorry, what? Wait, did she just say that to me? Really? I stood there dumbfounded. There wasn't anyone in line behind her and the woman in front of me, I think, pretended not to hear, and I was saved from saying something horrible to this nice looking old lady by another cashier walking up and calling her from the line. I paid for my four sheets of scrapbook paper, and went to sit in my car. Mostly I was and am just offended. It's none of her business if I'm married or not. Or how old I was when I chose to bring life into this world.
Honestly, did she think she was doing me a service by voicing her backward opinion? I don't really want to know. Though I think I will make time to go get a new wedding band this weekend.
Monday, October 4, 2010
See it only took 35 days to get things back in order
So, hi. Miss me? Nah, I didn't think so. I won't make excuses for myself. I will say that things got hairy here in Sarah Town and I needed the time off from well, everything. I have not blogged, message boarded, written a short story, worked on my novel, or played WOW in 35 days. Did I miss it? Yup. Am I back to daily updates? Nope. Am I glad I did it? You better believe it.
Next time I take a hiatus, I'm including Facebook and Yahoo! News, and I'm only answering email via my phone. Because email is just too damned impossible to go on hiatus from email.
I enjoyed the extra time with the girls, and with Husband. I missed them, missed sitting curled up on the bed with hot chocolate and watching a "scary" movie. (In our house, Where the Wild Things Are, Hocus Pocus, and The Haunted Mansion are scary movies) I enjoyed that special bonding time my whole family seemed to have needed. So needless to day I'll not be picking the computer back up every evening. I will however carve out some time two or three times a week for me to blog, write and other wonderfully creative things.
So on to what prompted me to blog again.
You see we are moving. The when of it is still very much up in the air, but the fact of it it real. We've bantered about it for years, but really, it's time. The girls need more space, our crap needs more space, I want a kitchen island and sliding glass shower doors. Can't have those in a 1100 square foot 2 bedroom apartment.
In the process of readying our home for the inevitable move, Husband decided to clean things. One of those things is our closet, a.k.a. the catch-all. In the very very back of the closet in this unusable space corner we tucked the boxes of stuff we want to keep but have no place to display or store in such a tiny apartment. So Husband decided to start with them. Among them was a small slightly battered old white paper box, simple marked Sarah in my Grandma Rose's handwriting. It was things she placed in a box for me just after I moved out of her home. I remember when she gave it to me. It was when I lived in that little loft off Cooper Street.
I never opened that box. Never. I just carted it with me from apartment to apartment for the last 13 years. It just got moved and stuck in the back of each closet. Never opened, never explored. Why? I didn't want to be sad. I didn't want to know what she thought I needed to have with me. I was hoping she's put a letter in it and I wanted to save it for when I was older and could be sentimental about the thoughts in it.
Well, Husband decided it was time to open it. I cried. He pulled out his pocket knife, the old tape didn't need much coaxing and open came the box. It held no letter. I cried again. Instead I found a greeting card my sister had given me with "Everything I need to know, I learned from my English Teacher" (a popular form of sentiment in the 90's) on it, some books, a pair of socks, my junior high school year books, a few utility bill type papers, an old check register, some random pictures, and a Bible. A very lovely old brown Bible. I was perplexed. It wasn't mine. I didn't recognize it. So we flipped through it. It belongs to my uncle.
I have no idea why she put that Bible in there, or if she even knew it belonged to my uncle. It may have been stashed in the bottom of the dresser I used while living with my grandparents, that had also belonged to the same uncle when he was growing up. It might have been on a top closet shelf, for the very same reason, my room was once his room. Or it might have been a sentiment of her's, maybe she was hoping it would protect me as I journeyed through this life. I don't know. My grandma passed away almost ten years ago. I still miss her.
I put the Bible in the mail today, sending it back to its original owner. I wonder if he knew it was missing.
Next time I take a hiatus, I'm including Facebook and Yahoo! News, and I'm only answering email via my phone. Because email is just too damned impossible to go on hiatus from email.
I enjoyed the extra time with the girls, and with Husband. I missed them, missed sitting curled up on the bed with hot chocolate and watching a "scary" movie. (In our house, Where the Wild Things Are, Hocus Pocus, and The Haunted Mansion are scary movies) I enjoyed that special bonding time my whole family seemed to have needed. So needless to day I'll not be picking the computer back up every evening. I will however carve out some time two or three times a week for me to blog, write and other wonderfully creative things.
So on to what prompted me to blog again.
You see we are moving. The when of it is still very much up in the air, but the fact of it it real. We've bantered about it for years, but really, it's time. The girls need more space, our crap needs more space, I want a kitchen island and sliding glass shower doors. Can't have those in a 1100 square foot 2 bedroom apartment.
In the process of readying our home for the inevitable move, Husband decided to clean things. One of those things is our closet, a.k.a. the catch-all. In the very very back of the closet in this unusable space corner we tucked the boxes of stuff we want to keep but have no place to display or store in such a tiny apartment. So Husband decided to start with them. Among them was a small slightly battered old white paper box, simple marked Sarah in my Grandma Rose's handwriting. It was things she placed in a box for me just after I moved out of her home. I remember when she gave it to me. It was when I lived in that little loft off Cooper Street.
I never opened that box. Never. I just carted it with me from apartment to apartment for the last 13 years. It just got moved and stuck in the back of each closet. Never opened, never explored. Why? I didn't want to be sad. I didn't want to know what she thought I needed to have with me. I was hoping she's put a letter in it and I wanted to save it for when I was older and could be sentimental about the thoughts in it.
Well, Husband decided it was time to open it. I cried. He pulled out his pocket knife, the old tape didn't need much coaxing and open came the box. It held no letter. I cried again. Instead I found a greeting card my sister had given me with "Everything I need to know, I learned from my English Teacher" (a popular form of sentiment in the 90's) on it, some books, a pair of socks, my junior high school year books, a few utility bill type papers, an old check register, some random pictures, and a Bible. A very lovely old brown Bible. I was perplexed. It wasn't mine. I didn't recognize it. So we flipped through it. It belongs to my uncle.
I have no idea why she put that Bible in there, or if she even knew it belonged to my uncle. It may have been stashed in the bottom of the dresser I used while living with my grandparents, that had also belonged to the same uncle when he was growing up. It might have been on a top closet shelf, for the very same reason, my room was once his room. Or it might have been a sentiment of her's, maybe she was hoping it would protect me as I journeyed through this life. I don't know. My grandma passed away almost ten years ago. I still miss her.
I put the Bible in the mail today, sending it back to its original owner. I wonder if he knew it was missing.
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