Snow Globe

Father, thank You for the beautiful snow falling, snow I didn't even see in the forecast, a detail I guess I missed.  I sit here, looking out the window as it swirls, gaining in size and speed, and I feel as though I'm in a snow globe, wondering when all that is shaken up will soon settle back to a state of stillness and peace...

Yet at the same time, I don't long for stillness.  Stillness can mean stagnancy, and snow, with each miraculous flying flake, is anything but stagnant.

A snow globe is meant to be shaken, beauty in the frenzy and the shaking, watching outside as the trillions of flakes dance and collect around the centerpiece, the focal point in the glass sphere.  We are like that, pretty on the shelf, but everyone is drawn to reach for it, flip it upside down maybe a time or two, perhaps shake the dickens out of it, and set it back upon the shelf to watch and see, wait as a new pattern of flakes falling reveals another beautiful display.

I don't long for easy.

I am not pleading for stillness.

My only cry to You this morning, Father, is as You turn my globe upside down a time or two, You would be tender in Your grasp, tender with our hearts, faithful to Your Truth and promises, Healer, Strength-Giver, Provider, Safe Haven, Loving Father, Treasured King.

We weren't designed by Your hand to walk through this life alone.  Please, hold our hands tenderly as the snow flies...


*Today I'm a little late to the party, but I'm linking over to Lisa Jo Baker's "Five Minute Friday" where her writing prompt for last Friday was "Fly."  It's a fun writing exercise, no more than 5 minutes in the true spirit of it, just a time to write creatively, without the pressures of anything else...just enjoying the art form of writing from the heart.  Head to her site, link up your specific blog post (not your site domain) and then read and comment on some of the other posts to encourage others.

Friendship: Close Up

I'm thankful to be married to my best friend in the whole wide world.

At the same time, Jason doesn't fill the girlfriend spot in my heart that some pretty amazing women do, and this post is about them.

When we arrived in Denver almost 12 years ago, sure I was excited to live in a beautiful part of the country, but I was 31, really pregnant, and only had one friend 45 minutes away, who was a new mom.  Jason was busy at his new job 45 minutes the opposite direction, and I was in a daze, without a car, wandering amidst the dust and debris of the old house we had just purchased and gutted over the previous weekend.

I washed lettuce in the bathroom, in the mauve bathtub, because the kitchen was in the dumpster in the back alley.

Our fresh vegetables kept freezing in the refrigerator because it was out on the back porch.  As a result, we ate a lot of take-out, frozen burritos, gelato, and Clif Bars.  And, if that wasn't bad enough, I would sit in my house, covered in sheet rock dust, and watch Soap Operas.

I'm not even kidding.  Did you know Bo and Hope are STILL on Days?  True story!  (At least they were back in 2002...)

It was a low time in my life, let's be honest.  My friend who loves chocolate and sewing felt so sad for me from a distance, a beautiful package arrived on my doorstep one day with a toaster oven in it and instructions to head to the store so I could at least buy slice and bake chocolate chip cookies.  Oh, how I longed to sit with her on my couch to actually eat them, but fat and pregnant and hormonal, I sat on my couch and ate them all myself.

...again, a low time in my past.

ANYWAY, my mom was praying for God to send me some friends.  I wasn't hopeful.  In my head, since I was 30ish, everyone had already found their favorites.  Back in Minnesota, Jason and I had just left a group of friends we did life with every weekend for 5 years...how on earth were we going to find that kind of connection again?

Well, I've learned not to mess with my mom's prayers.  After a mishap in a mom's play group where I was invited to a Swinger's party, a friend in another state told me she had a friend somewhere in Denver and surely we'd hit it off.  I thought, "You clearly don't know how big Denver is...she could live anywhere."

2005 ice skating birthday party

Noah's 1st Celebration, the delivery crew and some guy with an afro

Locks of Love donation, 2008

Celebrating Ryan's arrival, Becky on the left who lived 3 blocks away, and Rachel

Grateful for friendships where we can pick up where we left off, no pressure, just dive in deep and keep pressing on...

And you know what?  She did live somewhere.  She lived 3 blocks away, had a daughter 2 weeks younger than Emily born at the same hospital, her own husband named Jason and, not that I pick them this way, but happened to be *tall with dark brown hair, too.

Today, less than 12 years later, I'm grateful for the prayers for real heart to heart friends my mom placed at God's feet for me, her pitiful, pregnant, chocolate chip cookie eating, soap opera watching, daughter.

The friendships which have grown out of this connection and my willingness to be vulnerable with others has allowed me the opportunity to meet some extraordinary women.  It has also meant stories shared in coffee shops, prayers prayed, truth told, tears strewn, basketball played, trips to Mexico, laughter and love, a room full of women at Noah's delivery, meals and shoulders during his hospital life, weekends away, mini-retreats, hard conversations, Easter feasts, closet purges and style consults, Scriptures studied, Friends Thanksgiving, prayers for marriages and misunderstandings, Bevy makeovers, beautiful locks shared in love, miles walked, wine and chocolate, creativity shared, more tears, more laughter, and my heart overflowing with gratitude that at the end of any given day, I am humbled to know God's love in a deeper, more profound way through the gift of friendship.

It's a beautiful thing to have friends willing to live life to the fullest...blood, sweat, and tears!

 (*not a friendship prerequisite...)

P.S. This particular post is about friendships, up close and personal, in the day to day, close in proximity.  I'll also be posting about the treasure of long-distance friendship.

Top Ten Thanks

Every night, unless he is out of town, Jason and I are a tight team in the bedtime, tucking in the kids, routine.  At this stage, Ryan wants me most times and I won't lie when I say, I'm eating up every single, "I want Mommy!" moment I can get because I know at some point, it's possible he won't choose me.  Em's cool with whomever will read to her.  I never was in drama, but being a lover of books and stories, especially good dialogue, and maybe a little dramatic in nature, I try to read aloud with a bit of expression...soooo, all that to say, this could be why Em chooses me to read to her most nights, and former engineer PhD, dad, to do the tucking in and praying part.  We are a good team like that.

On the nights I do the tucking in and praying with Em, we lay our heads on the same pillow, because that's just how we've always done it...and she still lets me.  She'll play with my hair (which I really can't stand, but I'm soaking in time with my pre-teen, so I'll take what I can get...) and ask me to tickle her arm or back or the palm of her hand.  She tries to do the same to my arm or hand and that is where I draw the line.  It makes me nauseous.  Am I weird?  It's almost like frosty freezers or nails on a chalkboard...back rub or foot massage?  Now we're talking.

Here we are December of 2006, one of the nights I was home with Em while Dad was at the hospital with Noah...we're sharing the same pillow, AND, Curious George is STILL part of the bedtime routine.  

Anyway, before we pray, I usually ask one of several questions, including:

• What were your Top Ten favorites of the day?
• What are 10 things for which you are grateful?
• Let's share our Top Five of the day.
• Name 5 people you'd like to pray for tonight.
• If you could tell God "10 Thanks" for today, what would they be?
• Who is someone at school we could be praying for this week?
• Is there anything specific you'd like to talk to God about tonight?

The list could go on and on, but my desire is to be INTENTIONAL to stop, reflect on the day, and give thanks to our loving God for anything and everything, in general, and specifically.

With Ry, at least with the second bullet point above, he'll say something to the tune of:

1. "Tank You for horses."
2. "Tank You for giraffes."
3. "Tank You for Daddy."
4. "Tank You for trains."
5. "Tank You for cars."
6. "Tank You for my cousins."
7. "Tank You for Yay-goes." (Legos)
8. "Tank You for mountains."
9. "Tank You for CARS."
10. "Tank You for my cousins."

He means it about the cousins....

Often Emily says in her Top Ten, "Right now..."  It never gets old to hear her repeat this sentiment.  It's actually my favorite in a totally selfish mommy sort of way.  I breathe in the "right now" and say, "Me, too!" and tell her, and God, how thankful I am to be her mom.  

Because, HOLY COW, I'm her mom!

Sometimes she tells me her Top Ten, and in my best Nacho Libre accent, I say, "You gotta be kidding me!  Everything you just said is my favorite thing to do, every day!" and we laugh.  Nacho may not be on your Top Ten list, but it's a family favorite because before Noah ever went to the hospital for the rest of his life, somewhere in his first 7 weeks at home, free of machines and wires, I took him to see it with my eldest nephew.  We speak Nacho around here to lighten things up once in a while.  Sometimes I read our story in Nacho, just to change things up a bit.

Anyway, back to this post on Thankfulness.  I'm thankful Ryan says, "Tank" for "Thank."  I'm thankful for an amazing husband who is engaged in the bedtime routine.  I'm thankful my daughter loves books as much as her nerdy word nerd mom.  I'm thankful for writers who have taken the time through the ages to scribe stories which we are able to read each night.  And, I'm thankful for comedians like Jack Black who make my stomach hurt from laughing.  

Mostly, though, I'm thankful for the "Right Now."  When we recognize the "Right Now" as a gift from God, something as simple as a bedtime routine becomes sacred and beautiful, memorable and life-changing.

Tank You, Lord, for Right Now.  Just tanks...

*Heidi is sharing over on her blog about thanks this morning, too.
*Heidi Jo is sharing here.
*Elizabeth is sharing on her blog.

Where are you writing down your thanks?

Why I Hate "CARS"

I don't really.  If I did, I don't think anything I ever said again from this point on would be credible, so I jest.  But, it's okay for me, as a mom, to be mad at Lightning McQueen, Guido, Luigi, and all the Ferrari's in the whole world.

Do NOT let his looks deceive you...this 3 year old boy has been up to NO GOOD!  NO JOKE, I've only grown gray hairs since he's been in my life.  

Last summer Ryan would say something about punching in the face.  Jason and I would just look at each other and then say, "Oh, no, Ryan, we don't punch anyone in the face.  Where did you hear about punching in the face?"

He didn't have an answer, and then, one day, I was nuggled up to him on the couch while he watched "Cars" and I heard it.  It was one of those little tire helper guys, either Luigi or Guido, I can never remember who is who, and the real Ferrari's had just driven into the store for new tires, and one of the little Italians exclaimed, "A REAL Ferrari!  Guido (or Luigi) punch me in the face!"

Frigging Pixar!  I know you make movies for my entertainment as I watch along with my child, but my toddler doesn't understand that it's just an expression!

Fast forward to tonight as I was off to Walmart, all by myself, for a solo mom-retreat...just a chance to BREATHE and get out of the house, aka, operation: get tampons. My life should make you jealous, clearly.  So, yeah, why not Target?  Tar-jay?  It's so much more hip mom...Well, because the $87.88 I spent at Walmart for tampons would have easily been $158.97 at Target, and even though the last few days of parenting a 3 year old boy merited a Target splurge with no regret, I'm still trying to stay on a budget, thank you, Dave Ramsey!

As I headed to get the said item, I took a turn through the razor aisle.  Two guys, early 30's, hard-working, were talking, discussing, the one holding several different products in his hands and as I pass by with determination to avoid all eye contact with other people while on my solo retreat I hear, "Hey, have you ever had hemorrhoids?  Is that okay if I ask you that question, ma'am?"  

Me:  Um, yes.  I've had 3 babies, so of course I've had hemorrhoids.
Guy 1:  Sorry, it's kinda personal, so thanks for letting me ask.
Me:  You can ask me anything.  Literally.  I had a little boy who passed away so nothing phases me, and one thing I've learned is life is short and if your girl is suffering from hemorrhoids, you sure better take care of her.
Both guys in unison:  Oh, I'm really sorry for your loss, ma'am.  Nobody should ever go through that...
Me:  Thank you.  You guys are sweet.  He is safe and healed with Jesus, but let's talk about your girl, she is the one who needs attention right now.
Guy 2:  I have a real deep respect and relationship with my Lawd, Jesus Christ.
Me:  Awesome...
Guy 1:  She's in a lot of pain and just told me to go to the store to get her some stuff, said it's burnin'.  Should I get her the "Cooling Gel?"
Me:  (holding his 3 items, side by side...)  You need to get her the "Maximum Strength" relief, plus, get her these pads to put the cream onto and get her an ice pack.  (*thinking, "Am I on a hidden camera?  Is this for real?  Are two guys asking me how to heal his woman's hemorrhoid...in Walmart?)  Believe me, "Maximum Strength" is the way to go.
Guy 1:  (*What he said at this point, I cannot repeat...)
Me:  Oh.  Well then, she may have an infection.  You need to take care of her and get her to a doctor.  She may need antibiotics.  (*Dear Lord...just...Dear Lord...)
Guy 1:  For reals?  Okay, I have health insurance.
Me:  Good, yes, give her this, but watch her, make sure she doesn't have a fever, and get her to a doctor to make sure she doesn't have an infection.  You need to take good care of her, treat her right.  God loves her and made her.  He loves you, too, and He wants you to take good care of her.
Guy 1:  Yeah, at least for this week, I'll do her right...
Me:  NO!  God made her and designed her and loves her and you, and He has a plan for your lives, so treat her right, EVERYDAY, ALL THE TIME!"  (With more emphasis!)
Guys:  Thank you, ma'am.  (Outstretched hands.)  I'm (so and so) and I'm (so and so).  Here's my card if you ever need some trees cut down...
Me:  Thanks.  Nice to meet you.  I'm Adrienne, like Rocky Balboa's wife.  What's your girl's name?
Guy 1:  (Such and such...)
Me:  I'll be praying for her, for God to heal her body.  Please, take care of her...
Guys:  Yes, ma'am.  Thanks for not being embarrassed to talk about hemorrhoids.

I turned the corner and had to post it on Facebook, because, clearly my solo retreat was over, right?  I headed to the tampon aisle, then bought mascara and chocolate and a few other things since you can't just put tampons on the conveyor belt without anything else...duh.  (I guess there IS self-check out...)

SOOOO, I was at Walmart ALONE because Ryan, my 3 year old, is giving me a run for my money, like doing naughty things because he is bored or just seeking attention or who knows why?!  In the day to day, we are an awesome team, so this recent outbreak has thrown me for a loop.  For the most part, I am an extremely patient person.  I don't start fights knowingly, try to apply both Jesus AND Dale Carnegie strategies to day to day life whenever I can, and am quick to forgive and forget and find peace.  But, yesterday as I was carrying Ryan upstairs for his nap, Ryan slapped me first, then punched me in the face 5 times, to which I calmly knelt down, turned him over my knee so he was face down, arms no longer able to get to my face, stood up, repositioned him with his arms and body tucked securely in my armpit, hugged him, put him into his bed for nap time, calmly told him I loved him, forgave him, that hitting his mommy or ANYONE on the face was completely disrespectful, never okay, and he was never to do it again, but that I loved him and forgave him, once again, and I'd see him later.

I was so sad, no story/snuggle time which is my favorite part of the day...

Then I went into my closet to put on my workout clothes and as I bent over to unzip my boots, I bawled HARD, sobs deep within, because my son punched me in the face.  My son.  With force.  On purpose.  And he has words...and he uses words...but this time chose to punch me in the face, with 5 forceful blows, only stopping because I am currently bigger than him.  And it hurt my heart...and my face.

I knelt down and prayed.  Breathed deep.  Thanked God for my boy.  Prayed some more and changed my clothes.

Before I headed downstairs I opened his door to find him standing at the end of his crib, crying with deep sadness, lips down turned.  I said, "Ryan, I love you and I forgive you for hitting me.  I was sad because you punched me in the face, so how you are sitting in your room crying, Mommy was just in her room, crying, too.  When you hit me, it really hurt my feelings."  He sobbed deeply and said, "Mommy, I love you so much!  I'm so sorry I punched you!  I won't ever punch you again!  I'm so sorry, Mommy!  I love you, and I forgive you, too!"

I'm not sure what he was forgiving me for, "What?  For putting you down for a nap you clearly need, buddy?!"  But I'll take it.  I need forgiveness for all the screwing up I've already done to him and his sister...

I scooped him up and said, "Thank you, Ryan.  I forgive you and love you so much!  You are my very sweet boy!  My Giraffe!  Would you like to snuggle and read a book?"  He hugged me hard and said he did.

As I closed the last page he put his hands together flat, prayer style, and laid them on my chest, then rested his head on them, curling into me, like we fit together, mother and son.

Today he didn't punch me or hit me or anything of the sort.  Instead he purposefully peed and pooped in his bed, in his clothes, during "nap time" while he didn't sleep, along with pulling a canvas off the wall and chucking every stuffed animal out of his bed.  If he has to go potty while he's in bed, he always just yells, "Mommy, I have to go potty!"  No big deal.  I head up and assist.  But he's been potty trained for 8 months.  Honestly, I think he's bored with just the two of us, staring at one another day in and day out, even though at the end of any day, no matter what, he chooses me to tuck him in.  And I'll take it as long as I can get it.

I'll take the snuggles and the poop and pee, but not the punches.  That's not what "turning the other cheek" means.

I'll love my boy fiercely, knees bent, eyes lifted, hands open to receive Divine strength and discernment...because this mama gets to go on retreats sometimes, and it's those little things like even cruising the quiet aisles of Walmart at night, that re-fill my heart, or at least get my head on straight...

...except when other people are in the same aisle...and want my expertise on hemorrhoids.  Seriously?!  "Guido, just punch me in the face!"

*IF you are ever in need of hemorrhoid expertise and a woman has tampons in her cart, let her pass on by, then ask the guy near the end of the aisle, by the razors, the one who looks constipated, what HE MAY USE, and let that woman continue on her solo-retreat...

Just Write

It's ironic, and not, that the prompt for Lisa Jo Baker's "Five Minute Friday" is "write."

Just write, but be intentional about it...

GO:

Because today at lunch with a writer friend, who is writing a book with her husband, I asked, "How do you actually write a book on marriage?  Do you guys, like, brainstorm ideas and topics on a marker board, get a plan and go for it?  Is it linear, beginning to end?  How do you actually write a book?"

She laughed and told me she had asked her husband who has written 2 books the exact same question! She told him she had some questions and wanted to talk about it, wanted to know the angle, "Do we write about topics?  Do we come at it, 'He said, She said'?"

I asked my friend what insight her author husband relayed.

"He said to just write."

And we laughed and cussed and told one another how we both love Anne Lamott and Bird by Bird, so the prompt and advice wasn't new, but still just as profound.

Funny how the thing we both love to do, that is write, the thing we do in our heads and hearts most of the day, writing the stories we observe in our lives and the ones we feel and experience, is so difficult to scribe on paper, or tink on a keyboard.

Yet we know we've been designed to write and when we do, we come alive and feel all is well with the world.  Even when the writing sucks and no one ever reads it because it's simply filed away in our documents, trapped in a flat folding computer on the desk.

As corny as it may sound to some, we didn't hear corny as we exchanged our deep love for writing and how when we do it we know we're doing what we were designed to do, writing for the One who designed us, published or not, not seeking the approval of anyone, just doing what comes naturally.

STOP

Grateful for this prompt today.  If you want to just write, link up over at "Five Minute Friday" and then read the blog post of the person ahead of you and encourage them in the art of writing.