Mi Familia

I realize that at this moment, I have way to many things to blog about. I don't feel like I have the time to share about my trip to the Balkans, because so many events took place. It also involves too much thinking. So for now, I'll share about our amazing family video...

We were selected by a photographer in Albany (connected through a mutual friend) to be her guinea pigs for a new product she wants to offer her clients. Being the test run had some great benefits... it was free, including breakfast! Us Dismukes like free, so it was a no-brainer fo sho!

I saw the video early this morning, and have probably watched it 50 times already. It makes me smile, and gives me an overwhelming sense of being blessed beyond measure. I adore my children, and am still madly in love with my husband after 12 years(next month)of marriage.

Check it out at http://tamminowackphotography.com/blog/

sorry, my link connector isn't working... boo.

Why I Could Never Be A Hairdresser

I went yesterday to get my hair cut and styled for the first time in a year. I don't make it very often, but every time I do, I realize that I could never be a hairdresser. It's not because I don't know how to use scissors, a brush, or a blow-dryer, or even that I don't know how to wash someone's hair in the perfect water temperature.

My problem is much deeper than that. You see, as I lay with my head hanging over the funny little sink with my nose positioned very close to the hairdresser's armpit as she washes my hair, I am reminded that my calling was never to do hair. I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that I tend to sweat more than the typical, delicate female, and sometimes... just sometimes my armpits smell a bit.

Lord, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds. Renew them; in our time, make them known. Habakkuk 3:2

Truth

I haven't had much to blog about the past week or so, due to zero interaction with the outside world. I had my tonsils removed last Thursday, and by Dr.'s orders, I have remained indoors. Thankfully, I am one of those types that can be perfectly entertained staring at a blank wall, or watching HGTV, or countless episodes of What Not To Wear. This is not the topic of my blog, just a preface to what has happened in my rural farm town this week, and the thoughts that have been simmering for the past few days.

On Monday, 3 houses down from my Queen Anne style cottage/farmhouse, a young man was murdered... in cold blood... in broad daylight. I have lived in a city before, many cities, and was accustomed to hearing about the latest violence or other criminal activity on the nightly news. Somehow I was sheltered then, because I never knew the people, nor their families, or even the sub-communities within the city scape where these events took place. But here, it's quite different. I know the murderers family, in fact, my husband and I have sort of taken his cousin under our 'wing' since moving here. I am a regular at the gas station that this heartless act was committed. Last week, as I was laying in a bed wanting a coke, I thought I could give my son some money to ride his bike to this same convenience store to get some for me...four days later, there is no way in the world I would allow him to run a simple errand like that for me. The victims family is now threatening violence in retribution for one of their owns death.

Even though I haven't been out in the community since this happened, I have felt a significant change in the atmosphere. I began to pray, and ponder what truly lies beneath the seemingly calm surface of my area. Lurking there is generations of racism, fear, powerlessness, greed, lust, and pure hatred. Many here have only known lives of poverty, stuck in a system that prevents them from discovering life, victory, and independence. The schools are failing to properly educate the children, and the community, by and large, has stood by without providing a nurturing, safe environment where kids can be kids and learn to interact with one another in a healthy, respectful way. This brings me then to the Church. Out of 10 churches within a 5 mile radius of my home, not one is inter-racial. Not one of them, that I know of, extends beyond the racial, denominational, or socioeconomic barriers that permeate our society. Don't get me wrong, there are individuals that do what they can to alleviate the burden from some of the down-trodden, but I believe that the Church, the Body as a whole, has been paralyzed... disconnected from the head.

I want to see a miraculous healing in the Church here. I want to see individuals rise up to connect with Jesus to receive the Father's heart for his people. Then I want to see the Church present the only message of hope and freedom that is needed to set the captives free. Jesus. It seems to me that we all want to know what the truth is, how to discover what that truth is, but sometimes we forget that truth came in bodily form. Jesus. Ultimately, what Truth as a Person offers us, is all that is needed. To know Truth, to have Truth living and breathing inside, to have our minds transformed into the image of Truth, is what will set my town ablaze.

So, that's what I've been thinking these past few days lounging in the safety of my home. That's what I have begun to pray for my community... and beyond.

Wise beyond years?

I'm writing this so that I will not forget it.

Isaac make a comment only knowing a small portion of the bigger picture. Ben replied with, "A little knowledge is dangerous."

Isaac answered back, "It is more deadly to the one who wields it than to it's opponent."

What? My nine year old just said that? My question is what movie he heard it in, but Isaac insists it was his own thought.

Quite profound, excellent clarity, and full of truth.

Passport

My birthday is Friday. For the first time, I am beginning to feel old.
I probably wouldn't be feeling this way had I not needed to renew my passport. My old passport had been expired for over a year, meaning the picture of me was of a bright eyed, smooth skinned nineteen year old. A picture that I actually liked. Well, a few weeks ago, I realized that my up and coming trip to Greece and Bulgaria was going to require a current passport, so I headed to the local Walgreens to have my picture made. I took the time to blow dry my hair, run the flat iron over it, and did my normal make-up routine. All this, just to be sure the picture would be decent.

The young teenage photo boy took my picture, then loaded it onto the computer... right in front of me. As the picture slowly appeared on the screen, I gasped, nearly choking on my gum, and exclaimed in horror, "That is so not me, I am not that old!" The boy glanced at me and snickered. I had these horrible bags under my eyes, which I am attributing to the poor fluorescent lighting, with crows feet almost an inch long coming from the corners of my eye. Unfortunately, I cannot attribute that to anything other than maybe I smile a lot? Not so sure. The clincher though, is that my nose looked twice as big as it actually is. I have no idea how that happened. I always liked my nose with the little ball at the end of it, and always believed that it fit my face. But oh no, not in this picture. For the first time in my life, I looked at myself and felt very unattractive. Vain, I know.

It's taken me weeks now to process through this ordeal, and I am still having some trouble with it. I have to have this stinkin picture for 10 years. Then it hit me, when I have to renew this one, the next one will surely be worse, unless I have a chin tuck, an eye lift, and a nose job. Don't noses continue to grow? Dear Lord, help me.

Genious or Quirky?

My husband wants me to be able to tell stories about his quirkiness after he dies in 80 years. I figure that since I have difficulty recollecting details of people, events, conversations, books, or what have you, I should probably write them down now so later I could show the great-grandchildren without leaving anything out.

Tonight, hubby and I had a date, which are rare occasions due to the fact that we have 3 children and having to search out a baby-sitter who wants to keep 3 children is a hard find in these parts. We had a very romantic outing to The Shoe Station, Old Navy, Gap, El Vaquero (Georgia's lame attempt at good Mexican food), 10 minutes in Wal-Mart, and finishing off at Elements to hear a friend play some good music.

We arrived at our friends gig at about 8ish, where we ran into our friends fan club (his mom, dad, and grandmother), who had the staff of the coffee shop turn the couch around so hubby and I could have front row, comfortable seats during the show. I ordered the drinks, one sixteen ounce Americano with a shot of hazelnut for Ben, and one sixteen ounce english toffee latte with extra foam for me, and two pounds of whole bean espresso roast to indulge my latte habit at home. The drinks were good, the music was fantastic, and the cafe filled up quickly. So quickly, I might add, that the temperature in the joint reached 90, possibly 95. All of a sudden, we were surrounded by a large group of 45 or so people (all younger, except for the fan club). At this point, my quirky man begins to panic, and he's ready to either ask the owner of the cafe if he has any liquor to add to his Americano, or to high-tail it outta there. I had to inform Ben that the people were not there to see him, and that everything was going to be okay. The caffeine from the espresso infused water, and the heat from his drink caused him to break out in a sweat. Those two things combined caused him to fidget on the couch like a fish flopping around on a boat deck. He made it through the first set, and at intermission, grabbed my arm and pulled me out of place with my feet scurrying to catch up. As my body hit the balmy 89 degree temperature outside, we both felt instant relief, and began to cool.

I decided then and there that this would be one of those memories I'd like to share when we're old and gray (although the gray part seems to be coming a little sooner than expected for me.)

So Sorry

I announced to my family yesterday that we have a new family rule.

NOONE is allowed to feel sorry for themselves, for any reason, ever.

It sounds rather simple just like that, but the enforcing of the rule is going to take a large amount of creativity, another large amount of discernment, a larger amount of follow-through, and quite a bit of humor.

I began the discussion after the announcement by telling the children that there are people in this world that are born with disabilities, whether they be blind, deaf, legless, armless, you get the point. Yet others encounter hardships related to health, or loosing a loved one. I gave clear examples of people whom they have met to illustrate the point that if anyone deserves to feel sorry for themselves, it would be people who face their limitations every time they look in the mirror. I then asked them to tell me if they knew whether or not our friends felt sorry for themselves. Guess what? They don't. They take what the world sees as disabilities, limitations, immense suffering, and they overcome it. So why do we, when we don't have life altering issues occurring in our lives, decide that we are ungrateful for what we have that we demand to be self seeking?

I so want my children to grow to be overcomers. To take the difficult things they face everyday and determine to not allow those things to have the power to prevent them from becoming who they are meant to be.

I want that for me too.

The first day of the new family rule went well. I crunched the back end of my car into someone else's, and didn't feel sorry for myself at all.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I woke up on Sunday with the left side of my throat a bit tender. As the week wore on, my right picked up the soreness, and little by little, this vile invasion of my throat brought me to the point of tears.

I am not one to complain very often of pain, and in my opinion, I have a very high tolerance for it. The pain that resulted from this infection in my throat comes in second to the rupturing of my fallopian tube a number of years ago. So, I don't think that I am stretching the intensity of my most recent illness at all; I know pain.

Anyway, this really isn't about me. It's about my darling 2 year old.

She came to bed with me the night that the pain was at it's peak. What this child did next, completely amazes and blesses me. Little girl ministered to me for an hour. She stroked my hair, kissed my cheeks, prayed for God's medicine on my throat, and spoke words of comfort over me. "You be okay, you be arright." "It okay, Mama, Jesus put his medicine on you."

I am thankful for this infection because I have been given a glimpse of who my Mighty Abby is going to be. My heart overflows.

Moving...

... I wish. It's been one of those types of weeks for me and mine, and sometimes, I daydream about some other part of this country that I could call home. I've never lived in the Midwest, or the Northeast, but even then that doesn't seem far enough. I think I'd prefer Alaska, or even better, Hawaii. Maybe even back to Europe.

Ahhh, daydreaming is so much better than reality.

Job #2

As you know, my Job #2 is heading up the children's ministry at our church. I began a discipleship curriculum 3 weeks ago, and I feel like I am learning just as much as the kids are.

Our group, Treasures, meets Sunday morning during regular service hours, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. Sunday's are dedicated to the discipleship of the kids, and Wednesday's are dedicated to worship. We will begin having 2 extra activities very soon, one will be just for fun, and the other will be outreach oriented.

After the first night of worship, I asked the children to share with me what they learned, what God's presence felt like, and how their hearts felt during the worship time. Hailey, who is the tiniest 4 year old, told me that her favorite part of the night was laying down during the slower songs. She said it felt like Christmas Eve and that Santa was coming. As soon as this darling shared that, I got so excited... she encountered God! I realize that Christmas Eve is the night of most anticipation in a child's life... the prospect of extraordinary gifts creates much excitement in their hearts. She had that same anticipation, that same excitement, while resting in the presence of the Most High.

Last Sunday, I shared with the kids about communion and why we, as believers, take communion. We talked about the Last Supper and the things that Jesus shared with his disciples. The kids learned that because of Jesus in them, they have the power to heal the sick, cast out demons, and raise the dead. We took communion together to remember the blood sacrifice of our savior, then spent time praying for those that were sick. Several people were prayed for, and I know that for a fact, at least one was instantly healed. My son had been complaining of a horrible sore throat, was unable to swallow, and when looked at, was extremely raw. After receiving prayer, he began to swallow pain free. I jumped up to see his throat, and sure enough, all the redness and swelling was gone.

I am so excited to see these kids begin to walk in the fullness of God's kingdom, and I am thrilled to discover more of I AM than I have ever known.

I'll keep you posted on what comes next!

Rut

We have a nightly routine. I guess it is more adequately called a nightly rut.

My husband is a handy man of sorts... he can handle most projects... hanging sheetrock, crown molding, sun screens, painting, and even furniture building. He, along with my dad, built many pieces of furniture in my house. My son's bed, our TV stand, the dining room table, side tables for bedrooms, and ultimately, my bed.

Years ago, I found a picture of a bed that I loved from a Restoration Hardware magazine. Being as my husband and I were fresh off the mission field in Eastern Europe, we did not have the extra cash laying around to purchase this five thousand dollar bed frame. I showed the picture of this bed to my wood working father and my apprentice husband. Within minutes, both agreed that this bed would be easy to make. I knew the bed wouldn't look exactly like my picture from the very beginning. I had known my dad long enough to know that whatever he decided to do would end in the original on steroids. Shortly after the initial measurements were drawn, the picture that they were given was scrapped. The headboard is close to six feet tall and the foot board measures 4. It is made from solid cherry with delicate accents in tiger maple. It is grand in stature and looks.

In the making of this bed, only one mistake was made. The 2 by 4 slats that hold our box spring and mattress off the floor were cut about a half an inch short, which works nicely, except for when the slats fall. Having 3 kids who use all their might just to climb the height of the bed tends to shake the slats a bit, and a little tossing and turning on my part has ended with half our bed sloping toward the floor. It is especially disruptive when this occurs in the middle of the night, or during other activities that don't need explaining.

So, every night, Ben lays down on the floor on his side of the bed(for some reason, the slats only fall his side), lifts the box spring and mattress, makes a few minor adjustments on the slats, then climbs into bed ever so carefully.

I guess it's just me, but sometimes I think it might be easier to just cut new slats.

Lunch Lady

My kids go to a private school that I don't like very much. Every time I turn around, the kids have a note from school that they need money for this fund raiser, or that t-shirt that is mandatory to have for field trips, or this weeks water slide rental, and all sorts of things. The most frustrating of these notes has to do with the lunch room. I have had many conversations with the lunch lady instructing her that my children my not have or use a charge account for their lunch or snack purchases. We are trying to teach them early on about fiscal responsibility and the evilness of credit and debt. Needless to say, Miss P. has not cooperated with me on this. Last week, I sent money for E to eat lunch, along with an extra dollar for her to purchase a morning snack. That afternoon, my 7 year old informed me that she owes $0.60 on her account. Puzzled about it, I asked her how that happened and she informed me that it was clean out the regrigerator day, so she opted for a salad bar. Being that she is in first grade, and that the items are not priced for the children to figure out how much money they will owe, E was sixty cents short. Instead of helping E find something else for the $2.50 she had, Miss P. charged it to E's account that she is not supposed to have.

Being a passionate person, I dug through my penny jar and bagged up sixty pennies to pay the debt. My son figured out what was going on and told me that the school did not accept pennies. "OH REALLY," I said, "Well you can just tell them that a penny is a form of American currency, so they don't have much of a choice about it!"

At this point, Ben interrupts my diatribe saying, "Don't teach our kids to be so militant." What? You're kidding right? Militant? Not me. No way.

In my defense to Ben, I reply, "Before we were married, and even early on in our marriage, you told me that my passion for life was something you loved about me."

Despite the accusation, I still sent the pennies, and am thinking I might pay my speeding ticket the same way. Just for fun.

$$$

The Dismukes household is beginning a new phase. Hopefully it's not just a phase, but will actually become habit. We are beginning to actually live on a budget that we create at the beginning of each month and designate each dollar to an expense before it is even spent.

Historically, my weakness has been grocery shopping. In all the 12 years of being a family, I have never been able to stick to a set amount each week at the store. I enjoy shopping and spending money, so grocery shopping was where I could 'freely' spend. Needless to say, the actual dollar amount each month was $200 over my budget. "oops." or "I didn't mean to spend that much." were common phrases that easily slipped off my tongue in defense of my over spending.

We are now beginning week 3 of this new budget approach and I am currently $41 under budget. First, I found a great web-site called www.e-mealz.com and every Wednesday I log into my account and print out a 7 day dinner plan, recipes and grocery list included, based on the sale items at Publix. There has been only 1 meal that wasn't a hit. (I discovered my husband and children do not like water chestnuts, and that one ingredient ruined dinner for them.) Secondly, I have made a game of it to see how much under budget I can get... so less trips to the store for a this or that item.

All this has actually been fun, and I am looking forward to not saying "Oops." at the end of this month.

Unfinished

I live in a house that is unfinished. I am lacking crown molding to cover the cracks where the new sheet rock meets the old ceiling. After 2 years, I still haven't replaced the temporary paper blinds hanging on all the windows that need them. Many windows don't have any dressing, which becomes a problem when the sun streams through during dinner and leaves us all sweaty from the direct light. Little by little, we get things done, and sometimes, we can't do anything on it for reasons beyond my control.

I'm learning that my house has a lot to teach me about myself. I am undone... needing refinement... the foundation is good, but there is still so much for God to finish in me. I am so quick to see the areas that need covering, like the cracks at the ceiling. I am also quick to throw up cheap coverings to remain hidden from public view. I see the potential that my home has, and I know that my potential is seen by the one who dwells in me. Recently, I have had a recurring reminder of how God is faithful to complete the work that he's begun in me.

I am beginning to feel that the winter of my soul is passing now, and that spring has come. Now I can look at my home with a sense of hope, and I can look at my heart with the same.

Tales from West

As I was hanging up the weekly sales signs throughout the store today, I over heard a young man talking to our deli lady. He asked her what they were 'fixin' back in the kitchen for lunch. She replied that they would be serving 'chicken n dumplins'. The young man then began to rant and rave, saying he would not be eating there for lunch, and that he just doesn't trust many people to make 'chicken n dumplins.' I looked up and caught the eye of our deli lady, and pointed in the direction of the angry customer and rolled my eyes. She smiled.

Later on, I saw the deli lady again and she said to me, "Dat wus my son, and mmmm, he done drive me crazy. But I luv that boy. He messed up tho."

Oops... I guess I need to remember that half this town is related somehow and keep my mouth shut, and keep my eyes from rolling!

List

This week:

*beginning my second job
*designing and building a float for the "BIG" parade in town
*working my first job
*3 baseball games
*3 dance classes
* enforcing homework time that the kids aren't interested in doing anymore
*the never ending laundry pile and dirty dishes

I hope I have the energy and desire to accomplish all that's headed my way.
I hope I get some rest this weekend before it all begins.

Job #2

Yep, I will begin a second job the first of May. Doing what? Developing the childrens ministry at our church.

I think it's quite interesting in how it came about, so I thought I'd share.

Last December I went to an informational meeting for the possible development of a local charter school in our area. I was very excited about that option because 1. it's a publicly funded school (0 tuition), 2. It mandates high parent involvement and another choice for lower income families, and 3. my oldest attended charter schools for K and 1st grades, and was incredibly challenged and did a lot of accelerated learning.

At the end of the meeting, I stood to announce my approval of the idea and my reasons, then signed myself and Ben up to be on the steering committee. We saw a problem with the existing system and decided to help bring change instead of continuing to complain about the status quo. We began to feel a whole new sense of purpose about being a part of something that will benefit 5 counties that would be included, and it felt good.

In the mean time, I began to get frustrated with our church situation. We moved to the middle of nowhere and ended up attending a church in a mainline denomination, (which I don't particularly like, but oh well.) The service is also very rigid, traditional hymns with a couple worship songs that were sung 'as written'. Honestly, it's boring. So if I was bored, I am sure you can imagine two children, 9 & 7 having to endure the hour and 15 minute service, which by most of the gray-hairs were not even welcomed.

Ben and I began to consider visiting other churches (about 45 minutes away). We made it to one and really liked it. It wasn't just us, either. The kids couldn't wait to go back... the next day!

While this was happening, someone we know pretty much challenged us to be a part of changing where we were. A novel idea, we thought, seeing as we've already had a taste of being a part of bringing true change into a not so good situation. Then, the job offer came for the kids ministry.

I informed our friend that I would accept the position as long as I could change a lot of things...
1. The kids will have their own childrens church
2. I get to choose the curriculum
3. The kids will have an active role in ministry to the adults.

I'm pretty excited about it.

Easter Shopping

After a few hours of shopping in Atlanta, and another few hours in Dothan, I was still unable to find the 'right' dress for me and my youngest girlie.

Around this time of year, I like to purchase new digs for the entire family to wear Easter morning. This was a tradition that I grew up with, and decided to carry it on with my own children. The trouble ensued with my color choices. Two complimentary colors are picked every year so that we all sort of coordinate... not match, but at least look good in our annual Easter photo. This year, Pink and Orange will be displayed on the Dismukes family.

In many ways, this shopping trip is a worshipful event for me. I realize that this may sound weird, and to some even sacreligious, and I'm okay with that. During the shopping trips to numerous stores, I am very aware of God's presence and spend quite a bit of time praying.

Seeing as Easter is this weekend and I didn't have to work today, I took off for Albany to finish the list of purchases that I wanted to make. The drive to Albany is roughly 40 minutes, if you go just a little over the speed limit, so I normally get on the phone to chat with any number of people. Today, I was visiting with my mom, talking about activism and other extremely important ideas. As I talked, my driving speed increased more than the usual 5 miles over the limit, and I did not even notice. Not until the little blue lights on top of a passing car went off. I immediately slowed and looked through the rear view mirror to discover in horror that the police car had turned around to get me. Now, over the years, I have had the priviledge of being pulled over by men. And I have always used that to my advantage and had never been issued a ticket (except that one time I broke the cops window from loose rock on the road). As I was pulled over on the side of the road, I began to run through my mind what I would say to ease myself out of the trouble I was in, then I looked in my driver side mirror as the officer approached and all of my wonderful explanations vanished as I saw a female officer coming my way. I was out of luck. When she got to the window, I handed my license and registration over promptly, then was asked if I knew the speed limit. I answered back with "Yes ma'am, it's 65." She returned with, "No, it's 55." My heart sank. I wasn't going 11 miles over the limit when she nabbed me, I was going 21 miles over the limit! Needless to say, I received a ticket.

After resuming the drive into town, I passed two more county sherriff's. However this time, I was traveling much slower with my speed control set to 55, just to be safe.

When I made it to the shopping district (which is what I prefer to call it, even though it is quite the pitiful mall), I found the perfect dresses for the girlie and myself. I was not expecting the added expense of a speeding fine today, and hope that I miraculously get some money in the mail to cover it. Since, after all, it WAS a time of worship.

Tales from West

I work at the local IGA grocery store called West Foods. It's been the only store to service this town since it opened in in 1967, and seems to be doing well despite the current economic situation we are facing. This little store employs 26 of the most interesting people you could ever imagine, not to mention the owners. I work a 3 day work week, Monday's, Tuesday's, and Thursday's, doing the books, payroll, price verification... basic office administration stuff. My desk is positioned in the northeast corner of the store behind the customer service counter in a cubby, virtually hidden from everyone. Most folks around here don't know that I'm there, much less, able to hear every word escape their lips. It's a perfect set-up for an avid eaves-dropper. I have learned much more about this community and people in it than I ever really wanted to know... and some of it is dying to be shared with the blogging world. So every now and then, I will post some of the bizarre happenings from the world of West Foods.

I have a very generous employer who feeds his employees for free from the deli in the back of the store. The food is very 'Paula Deen', except not gourmet, but full of butter and lard and who knows what else. I try not to find out, because in this instance, ignorance is bliss. Anyway, I was in line for lunch yesterday and was able to practice my eaves-dropping ability quite easily in line. The woman in front of me ordered the peppers and steak over rice in a cup. As our faithful deli employee scooped up the mixture into the spoodle, the heavy-set customer asked, "Give me that piece of meat with all the fat on it... no, not that one. The one with more fat... yeah, that one. I love fat." I immediately bit my tongue to supress the giggle that was bound to escape. I had never heard anything quite like that before, well, yes I have...

As I am writing this, I remembered something that happened years ago in a little restaurant in Sarajevo, Bosnia that is sort of similar to what I heard yesterday. Ben and I were dining with a large group of friends. The restaurant served it's food 'family style', so a large plate of cheese and meats was brought to the table with bread. The meats were very good, especially the procuitto. Being a little conscience of what I eat, I refrained from eating the large amount of fat that was laced through the procuitto, and left it on my plate. A male friend across the table noticed and said to me, "Why don't you eat the white meat? The white meat is the best part." I was kinda grossed out when he asked to have what was left on my plate, but I politely obliged.

So, over the course of my employment at WF, I am sure to have more to write about. Stay tuned!

Lightning...

I woke up this morning at 5. For anyone who knows me, I don't ever wake up at 5. The reason for my interrupted sleep was due to a severe weather. The power went out, therefore my noise maker turned off, therefore I woke up. I was unable to return to sweet slumber because I HATE lightning. Flashbacks of horrible thunderstorms from my childhood flood into my mind, and I get nervous. On top of that, my windows rattle at even the smallest noises, so when lightning strikes, my windows sound as if they will shatter into millions of pieces.

As I lay in bed, with all the ideas of lightning striking the magnolia tree in the front then crashing through the roof to land on my eldest, or a strike hitting the tinderbox of a house that I live in, I began to think about how I will inevitably have to comfort whichever children end up climbing into bed with me because of their own fear. I thought of singing the classic song from The Sound of Music, but realized that 1. I don't sing very well, and 2. I probably wouldn't be able to remember all the words (partly due to lack of sleep, the other part due to the previous mentioned images in my mind.)

Sure enough, the girls came whimpering into my room and climbed into the bed. I said, "It'll be okay, let's just all cover our heads with the blanket." Funny enough, it worked for them. They went right off to sleep and left me to imagine my poor dog getting killed by a tree limb that was blown off the dead pine tree from the neighbors yard, or imagining the sound of a freight train growing increasingly louder, wondering which room in the house would be safest in case of coming tornado.

Unrealized Horizon

I love to dance. And I love art. Just as I never pursued to become a dancer, I never pursued to become an artist. Over the past 4 years or so, desire to create has gradually crept into my heart. It all began with picking up my flute after a decade of not playing a single note. It wasn't a gradual ease into playing, either... I jumped right onto the worship team at church and there I was. The dancing came next. Again it had to do with worship, and I was truly unable to keep my body from engaging in the music. Last year, I choreographed a dance for Easter morning (with help from my dear friend Tina.) I, in my wildest dreams, never would have thought I was capable of something like that... only because I have never been trained in dance. So, as you can see, there has been an interesting progression which has now blossomed into drawing.

I sat last night, reflecting on the sermon I had heard that morning, and began to sketch. This drawing is what came out of that reflection. I see so often in my own life, and in the lives of those around me, that we often limit ourselves from our true potential. When we were first dreamt by God, he set a horizon before us... something that is within our design to attain. How we get to the horizon and how we fill the space before the horizon is up to us. I want to fill mine completely. I do not want to look back and see areas in my life that were unreached by love, or to think of what could have been.

I will keep playing my flute. I will dance. And I will draw. Then do whatever else is laid before me.

"Big Boss"

I have decided that my youngest daughter is one of the funniest creatures I have ever seen. She is almost five years younger than her next closest sibling, so she has been able to observe the many mistakes that have been made by sister and brother. I would think, though, that after close study of their behavior, the littlest darling would learn. I guess in some ways she has, but in the area of believing that she is the "Big Boss" in the household, she has not.

This afternoon, I sat in the den visiting with my mother-in-law. She was over with a nephew and niece for a few hours. My nephew asked to visit a friend across the street, and being that he is almost 12, he was promptly given permission. As he bolted out the back door (yes, in the south, the front door is rarely used), the "Big Boss" turned to me with a look of presidential authority and pointed, saying, 'I am going to the front porch. Yes, I am!' I, of course, repsonded with a resounding 'No, you may not go to the porch, but you may look out the front window.' Again, the little miss pointed her finger at me and announced much more firmly than before that she was going to the front porch. Naturally, I repeated my previous stance. This went on for several minutes before I finally gained the victory.

I also find this peanut of a thing loudly interrupting anyone whom she does not care to hear with a "blrlblerlblarlbal!" I laughed the first time I heard her say it, and now, regret that little mistake. For some reason, she now believes that it is acceptable to cut innocent adults off from finishing a thought.

I could go on, but just wanted to share a little bit about this little girl that has utterly captured the hearts of her parents, and anyone else who's met her.

Emily Louella is now 7 years old. We've been looking forward to celebrating her birthday since the last birthday in our family (Christmas Eve, or Benmas). The day began with Emily being serenaded in bed by Ben and myself. Abby joined in eventually, and then Isaac. The morning rush then ensued... getting dressed, hair done, shoes tied, backpacks loaded... you get the idea. Now, in our household, Ben is the master of breakfast. He rises early and prepares a full course meal for the whole family to eat together; grits, eggs, sausage, bacon, occasionally oatmeal, and cereal. But never does he prepare waffles. Until today. The Birthday Princess got her first wish granted with a delicious Belgian waffle topped with a pad of butter and drizzled with Mrs. Buttersworth syrup. We had just enough time to eat before the kids were off to school.

We wanted to continue to give Emily a delightful day, so we joined her during lunchtime at her school. We visited with her a bit, but mostly Ben and I were bombarded with questions by two of the most talkative first graders we have ever met. I was a tad disappointed by that, but Emily didn't seem to notice.

After school, I brought Em's cousin over to play with her as I created her special request dinner of tortillas, beans, meat, cheese, sour cream, lettuce, and tomato. I normally call it a taco, but tonight, it was all about what Emily wanted. This feast was then followed by a divine Oreo cookie pie (which I might just have to finish tonight!).

Then, the day's joy quickly fizzled. I, unfortunately, have become one of those mothers who are able to ruin birthdays. I am ashamed to admit it, but I've heard that truth sets us free, so I am determined to be honest about my poor behavior.

It seems that 7 o'clock is my 'Cinderella time'. Her's was mid-night where the magical spell ended and Cinderella was transformed back into a poor cleaning lady with mice for friends. For me, I am transformed into a tired creature that is grumpy, and yes, mean. You would think that on a day like today, I would be able to maintain some self control or keep an even temper, but no, I didn't.

So, my hope is that in sharing this, some light will be shed in a few hidden corners in my heart, and that next week on Isaac's birthday, another one won't be ruined.

Nephew

Today is February 3rd, 2009. My nephew, Jaden Nikolas Beaudry, made his entrance into this world yesterday evening. He is my sister's fourth, and the first of which I was unable to see and touch and smell within an hour of birth. Every other baby was born while I lived in Arizona. This time, I am in Georgia. I knew it would be difficult for me to not be there, especially since my sister and I are the very best of friends. I feel like I've missed out on seeing this miracle and sharing this precious time with Rayme. It's times like this that I long for my family, and wonder why I ended up where I am. If only... But I cannot go there.

So, Jaden, my precious nephew, I love you and am so happy you are here. I cannot wait for the day to have you grasp my finger with your tiny hand, or to stroke your head full of hair, or to just sit and nuggle with you. You are a boy created with great purpose, and are a treasure beyond imagination.

And Rayme, I miss you terribly, and I am so sorry I wasn't able to be there yesterday... I would have loved nothing more than to play with Sam, Bella, and Sophie-Anne while you labored away. I am so proud of you and of the amazing mother you are!

-H