No beach...

It has always worked out. I call the rental office in Ocean City, NJ at the last minute and they have a place for us, no problem. I have gotten us some great places, once even right on the beach. And we pay almost nothing for it because the owners want the places filled up.
Not this year. For the first time in years the entire island is booked. Ooops.

What of it? Just disappointed. My friend Kim is on her way there now, with her beautiful girls, including Belle who is still so sick and her wonderful husband. About the only thing that keeps my green eyes of jealousy in check is that it is them who are going. I want to see them blessed...but I want to go too...waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

As I wrote about earlier in the week, I am beginning to take "no" more graciously. I am learning not to beg God for what I think is the best answer. I am learning and learning and learning. His will be done, even on the silly things like a vacation to the beach. If we were leaving this morning, there is no way I would have gotten to do my yesterday the way I did.

I got to spend the day with my Lizzy. At 15 she often has her own agenda of people to hang out with so it was a nice treat for me. I took her to get her hair cut at East Coast Salon.
When she told the ladies she was going to cut her elbow length hair to her shoulder they audibly gasped that she was going so drastic! It was a riot.

What got me most was that everyone stopped to tell her how beautiful she is. From my friend JoAnne (my bestie in the nail world) to the owner Pat, she was complimented and hugged and loved on. Now that beats going to the mall for a quick cut any day! I don't think I would have cared if they shaved my head clean given the way they fussed on her. I swear she walked out of there three feet taller! Oh, and we got some great hair do's!

****Pat, I will be wanting a discount on the new hair color I am coming in for next week for this little mention here in the blogesphere...just sayen' it would be nice of you.****

Later in the day we hit a sale at Penny's and we shopped, just the two of us. That makes for some rare time. I love that we can laugh and be silly and enjoy each other as much as we can. She is one of the people I would choose to spend my time with when ever I can.

The truth is my agenda ran deeper yesterday. The day was more about hair and shopping therapy then just hair and shopping. She and I have been stuck in a cycle of "I don't feel like I can do anything right for you" with each other. Each of us feeling like the other is always annoyed or disappointed or just plain mad. I suppose we are having some mother/child growing pains of late. Normal to a large degree I suppose. Some of it not so much.

I have this burden on my heart to "not provoke" my children "to wrath." Well there are times I could care less if my kids hate me and "do what I said or I will not only provoke you to wrath, I will revoke your birth certificate!" is more my hearts cry.

As a mom, I am not always sure how to get from point A to point B. I do know this: when a child is acting out, pull them in. When you are not sure what the right answer is never push the child away while you work it out. Pull them in and spend more time with them. Give more of your heart and risk it being broken. I know for a fact that Liz is a good kid. I hear it all the time from other grown ups. But I don't want "good" kids, I want holy kids. And she wants to be Holy. Now to trust her and Him more while not abdicating...Sigh.

I am learning to trust God with her and her siblings more and more everyday. Trusting that He has given us these gifts, our children, in jars of clay. He does know what He is doing even when we don't. He has more faith in me and them then I sometimes do. As Tennyson wrote, "Forgive me where I fail in truth and in they wisdom, make me wise."

Yes, Lord. Make me wise with your wisdom that I might not lean on my own understanding

...and maybe do a little shopping/hair therapy in the meantime.


"Do not neglect your gift." (1 Tim 4:14)

A drunk...

Just a quick note before I head off to bed after a weary day of running. Walmart at 7:30am is always better than at 7:30pm, but man, am I shot.

Somewhere after Liz got her braces adjusted and Brennan had her spacers put in for her impending braces, I ran to "just one more store" to pick something up for John. When I pulled into the Oh-so-Ellenesque (as my mom was known for ALWAYS getting a spot at the curb of whatever store she was going to) parking spot, I saw him. Brennan saw him to. She asked what she should do, with out saying a word. I could see the concern in her eyes with just a quick turn of my head.

"Just step out of the car and walk around the back of it to me. He won't hurt you." I said, mostly believing what I had just said. She didn't question, she just did. Good girl, Bren.

We didn't stare, we just walked into the store, made our purchase and left. We repeated the same routine to get into the car, only in reverse order.

The drunk just sat on the edge of the store window and continued to mumble to himself. He had a black eye and his hands shook as he raised the paper back to his crusty mouth. He wore a flannel shirt in this awful heat and his face was ruddy with bear and sweat. He looked at us but never addressed us.

As we drove away I told Brennan he made me so sad.
"Why? She asked. "Do you know him?"
"Yes. I do. He was once some one's little boy. Maybe he is some one's daddy and maybe he was or still is some one's husband. But he is connected to someone, somewhere right now...and he is too drunk to love them. He is special to someone or at least he was, before the drink stole him away."

I wonder if his family knows he was sitting mumbling to himself, with a black eye outside a store and drinking in the afternoon...probably again. I wonder if they just got sick and tiered of caring anymore.

We got to talking about something else and I don't remember what. But the old drunk has not yet left my heart.

I think our Abba is that way, don't you? I think that we let the worries of this world and the life that can be so harsh, take us away from Him, but we never stop being in His heart. I wonder if it aches Him desperately when we refuse to come home to Him and instead (insert what ever or who ever you or I turn to instead of Him) turn to the bottle.

I wonder if my own dad ever did that, outside a store, in The Bronx or maybe in Brooklyn or in the city that never sleeps. I wonder if anyone saw him and wondered...and then did something for him...pray.

I didn't stop and share the Gospel with him. I didn't tell him The Good News of Jesus Christ. I just drove away...and now I just remembered to do something for him. I prayed.

There is an old expression that says God has a special love for puppies and drunks...it was probably made up by a drunken Irishman, as we love the sentimental so much.

Join me, won't you in remembering the old drunk, knowing that God sees his brokenness more deeply then we can see his black eye. Who knows, maybe we will see him in Glory someday soon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzGYVD8JvaE

No stats...

It would seem my premature eblogulation trend continues. I just accidentally deleted the stat counter on the blog while I attempted to be all blog savvy and add a new button from my all time favorite blog designer, Crissy. Sigh. I get rather klutzy during my PMS week, as evidenced by my deletion. It' s evident if you follow my calender and most of you don't, thus the explanation.

I learned years ago to not attempt to make big decisions or make major changes during PMS week. Some of the all time worst hair cuts ( like the bad perm of '85) were chosen by me during that one week period right before my period. I know not to go shopping for any major purchase that week or to even think about purchasing a pair of jeans. Grocery shopping should be safe, right? No. Everything will be salty or sweet.
The week I approached John about letting the kids return to school after our adventure into homeschooling, he gently asked what time of the month it was...we all know how brave he was for asking too. Had it been that bad week out of the month, the man may have been killed.

But what of that stat counter? There have been times I loved it. I love that the last time I checked it was over 3,000. That is not a completely accurate number as it also counts the number of times I have come on to check for comments or to post. But still, someone is reading this blog and that blesses me. I pray it means the blog has blessed those who read it.

For a second I thought about getting a new one. And then I decided not to do so even though I know the date on the calender.

I am not so sure what the Lord has planned for us right now. Last night I was reading an old journal from the spring of 2005. It was so full of angst. I was begging and pleading for God to move us on from the house we were in. In a little bit of my defense, the house was extremely tiny for the 7 of us. I was very specific in my request: Bigger house, a pool, a bigger kitchen, and a new school district.

I had no way of knowing that 6 months later I would get all of those things I had told God I was desperate for...I had no way of knowing that our whole world would rock apart and the loses we would have to go through as we gained that list.

My journal after the move was very different then it was before. Humbled, broken, mercified. I had seen the Glory of God and I was changed forever...except that I have begun to grow restless again.

I have always had wanderlust in my heart. I've always been waiting for the next great thing. "Send me!" I would holler to Heaven like God is my travel agent and I am getting ready for the booking to adventure...

"The hum-drum of everyday life done well." That is something my mom prayed for me everyday. I still struggle with everydayness. But I am learning.

So I am not going to count how many people have read here. I am going to continue to write unto the Lord and ask Him if I can bless Him with this little gift that He gave me. I am going to ask Him if He can use it to His glory, not mine. I pray it blesses the readers and my Creator. If the big publisher doesn't call, that's okay. I really should so some laundry anyway. I have this great life here and have found myself becoming more and more content in spite of my discontent.

Let my life be a living prayer and the stats won't matter. After all, He is quite fond of me.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv3WSrZ-9bM

P.S. When I get to Glory, as the smell of bacon wafting through the air greats me, I just know the angels singing will sound like this. Yes, Heaven will have both bacon and Alison Krauss.

Another forest story....

I had a premature e-blogulation this morning. I was all set to write when I hit post before I was ready. Hate when that happens. Actually it has never happened before. I swear it. Hmmm. I think that is something men say...okay, this is a family friendly blog and for the record, I've never heard it either. Dignity restored.

Okay, back to my blogishness this so early morning. One of the things I adore about summer is that when I get up and come to write, I sit in my dining room and on the ceiling above me is the reflection of the pool water. Living on a rather woodsy piece of land, sunlight is not something I see much of in my house. But each tree we take down gives me a little more sun reflecting off the pool. Pretty soon we will be able to see our house on Google Earth and not just the tops of pine trees.

But all those trees. Not long ago I told you all about how this is not a forest but rather my back yard. Last weekend John rented a chipper and we got to chipping up all those trees we have taken down.

John came out back and asked if anyone wanted to work that day, knowing payment would involve a trip to Five Guys and water breaks. He got off easy if you ask me. By the time we were done, my teens discovered what boob sweat was and I do believe I was calling John, "Mr." an awful lot. We were battered and bruised and bleeding, although there weren't any "pumpers" as Maggie calls a bad cut.

If you've never cleaned up a fallen tree, you have no idea how many branches, twigs and leaves there are, not to mention pine needles. A zabiljilasilion and yes, English majors, I know that is not a word. Last time I checked the English language does evolve so I can make up words here. So there. "Recently my BFF2 Bogarted me from BFF1 and left me feeling very Bacalled." THAT is a sentence and it is contextually accurate. Where was I? Right, trees.

As I worked in that blazing heat like an illegal immigrant it occurred to me how much these trees teach us. Think about when Adam and Eve ate from that tree of knowledge of good and evil. I wonder if there was, a silent to them, swoosh in the Heavenlies. I wonder if the door of Hell opened not with a creak but rather swung open as the demons were released by the fall of man and the short time of Edan was no longer a paradise.

How many? How many demons and how many sins befell the earth that day and since? Let your holy imagination roam with me for a moment. Let each branch and each twig and each leaf and each seed represent a sin. We know that Satan is the prince of he air...imagine with me that he blew on the tree of knowledge of good and evil and that planted more trees and more and more.

Some trees took root easily like the tree of deception. It has sprouted on lands like a pine forest. Pride has deep roots that tangle throughout the earth. And sexual sin, well I am told it is as prolific in the world as maple trees are here in the North East.

Some trees of sin have taken millennium to take root. Abortion was never acceptable until the later part of the last century. I imagine it was a slow growing tree that has now become as large as a tulip tree.

It took five hours with seven of us cleaning up that yard to make a small dent in the mess that each tree made. And we are far from done.

How to clean up a nation that has been scattered with the seeds of sin like a forest. How?

Another tree. This one with had hand hewn beams. Not a leaf on it, not a twig nor a branch. Stripped bare with nothing but The Tree of Life nailed to it. Watered by his blood like a sap ran down it's side. I wonder if again that "swoosh" was heard in the Heavenlies as One died on that tree on a hill. I wonder if the enemy believed there was victory for his forest and minions. I wonder.

I wonder still if he knew that wood hath hope. When it's cut, it grows green again as the old song says. I wonder if the enemy knew that bare tree held the seed of Heaven and it could wipe out any forest of sin planted in the land or heart of any one who calls on His name for redemption. I wonder if the enemy of our souls was shocked to see the mighty One standing in victory at the Resurrection.

I wonder if we know that He longs to heal our land. He will never tolerate one branch or one twig or stick or one leaf of sin. He longs to plant that One Tree of Life in this nation once again. And when we allow him to, we will stand as the land of the free and the home of the brave.

What twigs are messing up your forest? Are there more branches then beams? Bring them to the Tree of Life: The antidote of a deadly forest.


Isaiah 55:12
"For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands."

...AND the answer is......

Why does God speak in a still small voice?
When do we leave for Ocean City?
Can we go shopping for school supplies?
Why is the sky blue?
What time is it?
Who is John Wayne?
Who is Johnny Cash?
Who is John Deare?

Okay, I am starting to feel like Alex Trebek. Oy. It's like every conversation with the kids has to start in the form of a question.

"I will get back to ya'." is my standard response. I don't know some of the answers to some of the questions and some of them I don't have the brain power to answer either!

sketchy at best....

Gotta' say this summer routine is wreaking havoc on me, myself and my time. The un-holy trinity of Maryellen is feeling all the togetherness to the core. John is leaving for work so late that my "early" time would have to be at five in the morning and no, I don't love blogging that much! Plus the kids are up right after he leaves. Sigh...

So the post about the tree;
the one about the cell phones;
the one about the disk, you remember that cliff hanger right?

and all the others will have to wait in draft form until such time that I can get in here and write....

Happy summer and know this is not a complaint but rather a blessing. Family is never an obstacle to ministry but rather the vehicle that drives it. Of course right now that means driving right past The House Blogspot!