No thanks, I'll pass

No Thanks, I’ll Pass

   Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to choose the hardships that come our way?  Wouldn’t we love to have an OPT-OUT button to push when difficulties cross our paths? A few things I would opt out of are the pinky toe- it is just in the way, serves no purpose and wreaks havoc on my socks. How about junk mail, how did they get my address in the first place? Don’t even get me started on armpit hair (what the heck?) and menopause would be a big “no thanks.” Sick children, bill collectors, argumentative spouses, long grocery lines and bumper to bumper traffic would all be rectified by that wonderful little button.

   We have all faced unpleasant circumstances, very often life can deal us a dirty hand and when the dust settles we are left standing there, beaten down and confused. I know, sometimes my troubles are a result of emotional decisions or simply not taking the time to think things through, but there are those times when crummy things happen and amazingly I didn’t have anything to do with it. This would be the perfect time to push that amazing button and let the troubles roll by as I smile and wave. Sadly this is not how life is.

Nahum1:7 says, “The Lord is good, a refuge in time of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him.”

Psalms 126:5, 6 says, “Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.”

   I love the example of the one sowing in tears or the one that goes out with seed to plant even though they are weeping. We often weather hard times and still have to continue on with life. Children still need fed, homes still need to be cleaned, and laundry doesn’t wash itself so we continue on in spite of the storm.

   The struggle is real but I am learning to trust God as my strength and help. Even if I’m weeping as I continue on, there is the hope of joy and peace that comes with knowing God is good, he has the solution and he cares for me.

    Instead of the imaginary opt out button; we have a perfect loving father that is able and willing to be our help and refuge. When we put our trust in him we are somehow able to survive those difficult situations and come out on the other side singing, or at least wiping our brow, glad to be alive.

Welcome to my world, look at it mocking me.

Let me bend your ear

Talk, talk, talk

   “Hmmm, can I tell her now? Wait; is this a good time to tell her? Man, this is torture!” these were my thoughts as I stood in the bank line for twenty minutes, just waiting for an opportunity to tell a story to my poor unsuspecting teller. She was working hard on an important job for me, interrupting her just to tell a story could result in a financial failure that I didn’t want to explain to my husband. So, I kept my mouth shut. It was an excruciating twenty minutes. I even checked out the guy in line next to me to see if he would be a willing listener, he was clearly not interested in anything I had to say. I left the bank with a job well done but I felt a bit deflated, I had some really great stories and she totally missed out.

   Have you ever heard the nineteen-sixties song by Frankie Ford, You Talk Too Much? It starts with a verse that says “You talk too much you worry me to death, you talk too much you even worry my pets, you just taaalllkk, talk too much.” It’s in your head now isn’t it? This song pretty much describes my personality.

   Being an extrovert and loving the art of a one sided conversation, I view people as potential listeners where ever I go. Don’t worry, if you can’t think of anything to say, I will rescue you. Really all you have to do is sit back and listen to my stories. If you’ve already heard it, no problem, it promises to get better each time I tell it. No person is safe, no place is off limits; grocery lines, sample tables, laundromats, even bathroom stalls are not taboo.

    My only frustrations comes when I try to have a one sided conversation with another extrovert, “excuse me, I was still talking and you rudely interrupted.”  Also those people that clearly lack listening skills and are easily distracted by things like, their kids, other people, house fires, bank robberies and other unimportant happenings.

1 Corinthians 13:1 says, “If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything as plain as day, and if I have faith to say to a mountain, “jump,” and it jumps, but don’t love, I’m nothing.”

   In my quest to put others first I am slowly making progress. Allowing people to interrupt me and then wait for them to invite me to finish what I was saying has been a very hard mountain to conquer.  Walking away without reciting at least two gripping stories leaves me unsatisfied, but I need to keep in mind that others may have something to say and maybe they aren’t as out spoken as I am.

   It’s amazing what I learn when I do one simple thing, listen. I’m not saying that being an extravert is bad; knowing great stories and having the ability to deliver them successfully is a gift. If I don’t take the time to listen to others then I miss out on how truly unique that person is. How can I possibly know if a person is hurting, lonely, in need of a friend or even what their favorite color is if I continue to be the “creaking of a rusty gate?” It’s a matter of preferring others and it isn’t always easy.

   So, as I learn to put others first and muzzle my mouth a bit don’t worry, nothing is wrong, I am just choosing to hear about you for once.

AND because I just couldn't resist.

Bubble wrap is for sissies

Like Riding a Bike

   Wind in their faces and sun on their backs, weaving through traffic and jumping off curbs. Some are hunched over with the look of competitive determination and others sit up straight seeming to not have a care in the world. Bicycling, I watch and wonder if it is something I would enjoy but fear always follows that thought as I mentally count the cost.

   I have decided, several times, that I would like to ride a bike. It looks fun, its great exercise but I hadn’t been on a bike since I was carefree and thirteen.  

   Wanting to conquer my fears, I borrowed my brother’s bike and set a date to begin. Once I missed that date and shamefully a few more, I decided I had to get serious. I brought the bike out of the shop and carefully fitted the strap of my helmet for perfect comfort and optimum safety.  I wondered if I had erred in not purchasing any other kind of padding, bubble wrap came to mind. I was a bit shaky at first but I must admit that after riding in circles in my driveway for twenty minutes I felt confident enough to hit the open road.

   After leaving the security of my driveway it occurred to me that I had opened myself up to a plethora of possible hazards. What if my wheel came off and I was thrown over my handlebars? What if I was chased by someone’s angry dog or worse by the local cougar that occasionally visits the woods nearby? What about those huge storm grates on the side of the road, is it possible to fall in one? If I fall will I break a bone, I’ve never broken a bone, I’m pretty sure it hurts. Don’t even get me started on cavernous ditches and careless drivers.

   After wobbling down the road a ways something happened, I began to smile. Pedaling my way through the quiet streets, feeling the cool breeze on my face and the sun on my shoulders I found a sense of freedom and I felt thirteen again. Maneuvering sharp corners was a bit tricky and I took stock of every parked car so I didn’t become a casualty of an opening door. After about thirty minutes my only concern was whether my pants were properly pulled up on my backside so people didn’t get a free glance at my unmentionables.

   I am so glad that I took the time to try something new and I say to you happy cyclists around the world “I get it.” I get the feeling of freedom and accomplishment that comes from propelling yourself from one place to another, maneuvering through obstacles and successfully arriving alive. I don’t know, maybe I’m over thinking it but I am grateful when my tires hit the gravel in my driveway and I am home unharmed and refreshed.

Romans 15:13 says, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

   There are other things I have wanted to do but I admit I am sometimes fearful. I am afraid of failure. How can I be successful if I don’t try? Taking that first step can be scary but without it the journey will never begin? 

 Before climbing on that bike I prayed, eventually I decided to just give the fears to God. Trusting him leads to joy, peace and eventually success. If you have a dream, give it to God and step out in faith.

Shes not super attractive but she rides like the wind

Don't let the faux quilt work fool you, it is vengeful and vindictive.

Scary and may contain living creatures, just sayin.

The great crevasse, most of our ditches are like this. yikes

Not meant as a stopping device and may seem to jump out in front of you.

Do you see the little beads of fear sweat on my brow?

Grandparenting Is An Awesome Adventure

Weekend Fun

   My son-in-law turns forty this month and since he thinks that is very old he took his wife and met some good friends at the beach for the weekend. That meant Terry and I had the privilege of watching the grands.

   I was determined to make this a fun, adventurous weekend no matter how tired I felt . I started with the announcement that we would bring the mattresses and bedding downstairs and glamp in the livingroom. That started a land slide of books, stuffed animals and toys that came tumbling down the stairs, these were all necessary for a successful livingroom camp. 

This is what glamping in our house looks like.
Reading a good magazine before we settle in for the night is prime.

 This is the night I learned Livie is not so great at sleeping all night, I found that out around 2 a.m. and I ended up on the couch.

The next morning started out with a quick light saber duel in front of the Incinerator of Doom while watching a little Sponge Bob. It was 6:30 a.m.

A little workout with aunty Mel later that day, Connor was exercising his right to eat pepperoni.

That night we ate mac n cheese while they watched more sponge bob. This is usually forbidden when the mom and ancient dad are around.

After watching some quality nature TV (for you who were concerned about all the sponge bob) we practiced eating popcorn like a chameleon. 

Sunday we walked across the street to our awesome neighbor and bought plants for the garden. (They wouldn't actually touch them for fear of bugs)

Tomatoes and squash
we are ready to plant

We planted green beans and carrots, Livie put her beans in one at a time in a straight row,
Connor threw them in by the handfuls, this will be interesting.

At the end of the day we washed off the garden dirt in grandmas fun shower.
(Separately, That's important to know)

 

I braided her hair and she put it up like "princess leah"

   When the ancient man and his wife finally came home they were met with lots of hugs and the usual question, "where's my prize?" As the kids cleaned up all their mess at their mom's request you could here Livie say, "well the old mom's back."

   Terry and I were in bed by 8 pm that night.

Because laughter is truly the best medicine

The Left Handed Super Hero

I made my bed for the first time in three weeks and I felt like I could achieve anything.

   You see I had shoulder surgery on my right shoulder three weeks ago and I have been forced to use my left hand for everything.

   I went in to this journey with the attitude that it would be a piece of cake; I soon regretted the surgery as I was forced to enter the bizzaro world of the left handed.

   I had no idea how hard these left handers have it in our right handed society. Simple tasks like eating, writing and getting dressed all became messy challenges that made feeling like I was four years old. My morning routine was all messed up too, showering, toweling off and putting on under garments made me sweaty all over again. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard brushing my teeth became and trying to curl my hair has been a disaster; I have been reduced to curling it under like a Paige boy and I can’t help thinking I bear a striking resemblance to Little Lord Fauntleroy. Shaking someone’s left hand feels so awkward and people stare at you like you’re a freak.

   The commode is where this phenom’s super powers reach maximum ability and that is all I have to say on that subject. I have opted out of even trying to apply eye makeup because my eyes are irreplaceable.  Manipulating bra hooks are simply impossible. If you are a left handed woman my heart goes out to you, if you have mastered this feat go ahead and run for the Presidency because you can do anything. I have personally given up on this conquest and I only leave my house in dire emergencies.

   Sometimes I stare at my mere mortal right arm and wonder at the easy life I had when it was my friend. On an up note cooking and dishes have been forbidden entities because clearly only left handed marvels can do these single handedly.

   So if you are one of those left handed hero’s, my hat is off to you. Go out into the world with your head held high and shake opposite hands with confidence, eat out in a booth with boldness and click that seatbelt like a pro. Don’t worry that the majority of people are right handed, you are truly the gifted ones.

My right arm brace, it's like a slimmed down straight jacket. Like kryptonite it is my nemesis.

My beautiful made bed. Yes, I love pillows.

I decided to tuck my hair behind my ears, I didn't like looking like the ancient Monarchy.

Where do I fit In?

Dammit Angey

   Beads of sweat formed on my brow as I nervously chewed my finger nails. Waiting to hear my name being yelled through the house was torturous. “Larry, Kenny, Chucky, Davey, Ricky, dammit Angey, get in here!”

   I come from a large family, five brothers to be precise. Sometimes being the only girl made it hard to know where I fit within this loud, rowdy, society of boys. Being so far down the sibling list only made things worse, when my mom called for a kid she usually went through the whole list before she found the one she wanted. So “dammit Angey” could have easily become my nickname.

   Feeling like a part of the family didn’t always come easy. As the only girl I didn't have a lot in common with the five boys. I was all Barbies, babies and easy bake oven; they were all cars, karate, and blowing things up. It seemed my mom was more accustomed to boys so she wasn't sure how to handle the drama and emotions that goes along with raising a girl. I knew they were my family but the camaraderie that goes along with the privilege was just not there.

   Have you ever been unsure if you “fit in” as a Christian? Maybe your first reaction towards someone was not out of love, or temptation got the best of you and now your reputation is in jeopardy.   Do you feel like your name is way down the list of importance? What is the pronoun you would put at the beginning of your name? Sometimes we can even feel like an outsider because we don’t have much in common with our brothers and sisters.

   Zephaniah 3:17 says, “The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.”

Ephesians 2:4-5 says, “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions-it is by grace you have been saved.”

   Know this- God loves you exactly the way you are, “even when we were dead in transgressions.” He takes “great delight” in you. He even sings you your own special love song, how great is that?

   Just because you don’t always feel accepted doesn’t change the truth that no one in history could love and cherish you the way God does. He calls you lovely, mighty, beautiful, important, smart, healthy, blessed, desired, dear children and his own; the list could go on and on.

   When those accusatory lies sneak into your head, when negative emotions convince you that you are a big nobody, remind yourself that you are the sweetheart of God himself. You are the apple of his eye and there is nothing more important to him than you. You have a place and it fits you perfectly.

Top L-R Kenny, me, Larry
Davey,Rickey, Chucky

 L to R
Davey, me, Ricky

Here's Chucky

Kenny

Larry, me, Ricky

Free or not free, that is the question.

 Honesty may be the best policy but it's not always the easiest. 

   It all started with a trip to Costco. Terry and I decided to go grocery shopping and have dinner out. This is usually how our date nights go, most often it's a trip to Home Depot but this time we hit our favorite big box store.

   As we entered the store we were met by a very charming and energetic salesman pushing the latest in a bluetooth sound systems. Being a sucker for a good deal, I had Terry load the giant speaker in our basket and we were off to finish our shopping. I have to admit the whole time we shopped I really wanted to unload the behemoth and abandon it slyly in some unpopulated aisle, people do it all the time right? 

   Well we made to check out and then through the guards that frisk your receipt and make sure you are an honest shopper. When we finally arrived home Terry had me check the receipt to see if they gave us the discount on the player and to my surprise they sure did, in fact they didn't charge us at all. 

   At first I was elated, it seemed I just got a free fancy schmancy system compliments of Costco. Then it hit, I felt like a thief. Why oh why did he have me look at the stupid receipt?! 

I have to admit that it took me a couple of hours of justifying and arguing with my conscience before deciding it needed to be returned. It seemed like fate had briefly smiled on us but I just couldn't smile back. It sat, unopened, in the corner of my dining room and snickered at me everytime I walked by. I really started to hate the thing and this was only after a few hours.
   When I called Costco and explained what happened they couldn't believe I actually called them. Secretly I was hoping that they would say "oh Mrs. Lovenburg it was our mistake, we won't make you drive the thirty miles back to our store and return it. Enjoy your new sound system." Nope, thats not what happened, as a matter of fact when I returned it I found that they had charged me for two items I didn't actually buy and the lady walked me out to my car to sort through my groceries and make sure they really weren't there. I know, I know, it's policy but I did have to laugh and remind her that I just voluntarily returned something worth one hundred and fifty dollars out of the goodness of my heart. 

   I felt good driving home, no more guilt looming over my head. Two weeks later I got the deal of the century, I bought exactly what I wanted from a friend for fifteen bucks and the best thing of all is I can enjoy my music without guilt or justification.

   I know this probably sounds crazy to some but, I love freedom. Guilt can be like a vice that squeezes the joy out of everything you do.

Proverbs 16:8 says, "Better a little with righteousness than much gain with injustice."  

Proverbs 3:27 says, "Do not withhold good from those who deserve it,when it is in your power to act."

It even comes with a remote.
The earplugs are for the sounds I don,t want to hear. (Ahem, Terry)