Planted on the ROCK

My husband and I have a guilty pleasure to confess.  It is not anything that is detrimental to our spirits or disastrous for our physical bodies.  It is just wasted minutes spent watching a program where we learn pretty much nil except the value of someone else's junk.  We love to spend late nights peering into other people's garages, basements, and store rooms via "American Pickers".  The hosts, Frank and Mike, travel around the country in a van looking for valuable recyclables - Rusty Gold .  Their eyes light up and sweat begins to roll off their foreheads when they spy something they can transform from junk to treasure.  Rare bicycles and tin toys or porcelain cafeteria signs and oil pumps incite giddiness between them.  Mike likes to say "I'm just an ordinary guy looking for extraordinary things". Rusty gold, huh?  Their finds are covered in dust and cobwebs and years of grime, neglected  under a bottom shelf at the bac...

I have a 6 year old daughter with a passionate spirit .  Nothing is gray when it comes to her.  It's black or white, perfection or disastrous, sweet or sour.  Absolutely no in between.  She is the gift from God that keeps on giving - challenges, frustrations, laughter, hugs, smiles, and tears.  In her I see a future leader or ring-leader.  I see an amazing woman that God has created to inspire other people to act with vigor and vitality.  She has an infectious smile that lights up her eyes and the room she enters.  She has a heart that breaks at every infraction inflicted upon her by me, her brothers, and her sister. This girl o'mine is a challenge to home school.  She is the "Why Girl".   EVERYTHING under the God-created sun warrants an inquisitive comment.  Why is spaghetti called spaghetti? Why can't I have dessert at every meal? Why must I brush my teeth? Why did Abraham Lincoln chop down the cherry tree?  (By ...

Spinning a schpiel, you ask?  You know the people I mean.  You probably have at least one friend that comes to mind when you read "Official Schpiel Spinner".   The type of person that talks on and on about really nothing at all.  Or, talks only of themselves and never stops to take a breath.  Or, if they do stop it is to switch subjects of "me", "Me", or "ME". I recently met one such person.  She seemed nice enough and normal enough.  She used regular speech and made eye contact.  Her children were pleasant and it all seemed dandy.  Until, the schpiel began to flow from her never-closed lips .  Between the I've-been-there and I've-done-that and I'm-gonna-do-that was a cry of insecurity.  The woman was silently screaming "I'm insecure!"  "I'm lonely inside!". My first reaction was to cross her off my potential friends list.  I know what you are thinking!  Isn't it ugly to think I have such a list?  ...

The Lord sent me to Central America to evangelize.  Except that is not all He sent me to do.  He also sent me to be listening ears to those who needed a sounding board.  And what an amazing opportunity he handed me on a silver platter. I had the honor of sharing a hotel room with a BFF for an entire week.  We were able to solve the world's problems until 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning.   I was able to pour out all I had seen, heard, and done throughout the day and so did she.  We were able to unload all the emotions and just "externally process" all God was showing us. "Tippity-tap.  Tippity-tap." Three ladies from our mission team were at the door of Room 106 .  It seems they too, wanted to work through their experiences of the day.  We laughed and chatted with "randomocity".  Until . . . "Uh, I have a confession to make."  Uh oh .  The air instantly changed from frivolous bonding to electrified intensity .  W...

Mommy.  Mommy.  Mom.  Momma.  Mother.  Mutter.  Mum.  Mummy.  Ma.  Mommy.  Mommy! These are the words ringing through my home, my ears, and my heart all day long.  With four kids at home, two of which we home school, the call for my attention never ceases.  Pleas for a referee to break up a squabble over trains, assistance with solving for "x", and inquiries as to what will be served at every meal for the entire day, including snacks, are abundant. The name "Mommy" is heard so often I sometimes ask my children to call me "George" for the day.  They laugh and think it is funny but I seriously just need relief from hearing the "M" word.  I inform them that I will not answer to any of the M-synonyms (another opportunity to squeeze in a language lesson!) but will be happy to answer their call when addressed as "George". An amazing thing happens - those children have to stop and think about using the correct name....

Weight .  What an UGLY word for those of us who struggle day in and day out to maintain or in my case, achieve, an acceptable BMI.  Picture this. . . three or four days a week of "30 Day Shred" - killer ! Two or three days of recumbent bike - boring !  Counting and tracking Weight Watchers points until my pencil is worn down to a nub - relentless agony !  What's worse?  Committed exercise and diet changes since mid-November has earned me a 4 pound gain.  You heard that right - GAIN !  Now, to be honest I did have a 3 week excessively indulgent period over Christmas.  But you would think days upon days of Jillian Michels would balance that out. As you can guess, there is more going on here than just exercise and diet changes.  For me, food has always been a coping mechanism, a prop.  I was one of those tween girls that had to shop in the Pretty Plus department where designers somehow forgot to make things cute.  You know, gingh...

My family recently visited a sea life/amusement park.  To prepare for the unavoidable water experience, I donned my swim suit under my sun dress.  Now to set the stage, my figure is Rubenesque in nature which calls for one of those not-so-cute swim short ensembles.  What I didn't realize while shopping for said swim shorts was that those shorts cause serious friction !  There was so much rubbing of skin against shorts that day I could have produced enough electricity to power the whole park! While doctoring my sore hamhocks with first aid cream, it brought to mind what I am like when I am doing my own thing and not God's.  I have a constant ever-present desire to do things my way first and then "consult" with God later.  You know the " it's better to ask forgiveness later than ask for permission now " theme?  I practically authored the idea!  You see, for me, going off on my own Commando-style never seems to work out.  The friction of ...