Penurious

I've begun to do some study on what it means to be penurious in today's day and age.

Definition of PENURIOUS
1
: marked by or suffering from penury
2
: given to or marked by extreme frugality

Actually, there was a word that fits better but I didn't want any hate mail. I've fallen a little PC here for you all. If you should google "penurious" use the thesaurus...and you will hit on the word I mean. Or not, this fits my purpose here anyway.

I am not just talking about the year we had here, but rather the state of mind John and I were both raised in and adopted as our own. The thing is, how to know when you are being penny wise and when you are being penurious with a dash of pound foolish thrown in...

I am pretty sure there is no way to know, with out lifting our finances daily to Him...

I mean how else would you know if doing a project yourself is the smartest way to go, or if hiring someone is smarter?
How do you know if you should buy all the beef on sale in ShopRite next week or wait until you need it?
Should you buy your stuff only on sale or do you splurge now and a then...

I don't think there is a cut and dry answer. Ugh.

I like little boxes. I like formulas. Do this, all the time, every day and Voila'! You too, can have righteous living! Has that worked out for anybody else? No, sigh...I was kinda' hoping for a comment letting me know it worked out. That way I could follow your plan! Six easy steps to a better life kinda' thing? No? Crud.

I am also starting to think this lack of formula thing translates beyond my check book. I need to be willing to do the crazy stuff in order to live the godly life.

Lets face it, 10%? Seriously? I mean who, in their right mind would give God that much, especially when taxes are this high and we have all these kids and just the one income...I mean, who STARTS to tithe at the height of the worst economic crisis our nation has seen in this generation, if not ever? And commit to get out of debt...Oh and while you are at it, retire from a great paying job.

I just got this funny image of our Abba shrugging His mighty shoulders and saying thusly~'cause I think He is going to speak thusly in Heaven when we get there~

"Makes sense to Me!"

Formula's only work in math. Trusting God with the ridiculous is what I am getting better and better at.

Even this woman's event...crazy. Stark, raving crazy. No way anyone is going to support it. But I honestly believe, He is calling me to it. So that would require obedience, wouldn't it? I think it may even require generous and courageous obedience not skimpy, penurious obedience...

Remember when Peter reminded Jesus (don't ya' love Pete's chutzpa?) that they needed to pay the tax to walk into the temple? Did Jesus tell Him to borrow the money? Did He tell Peter to take it out of the food money, just until pay day? Or maybe He told him they would walk in like they owned the place and no one would dare question them? Nope...

"But so that we may not offend them, go to the lake and throw out your line. Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours." (Matthew 17:27)NIV

Now is there another account of the boys getting money out of a fishes mouth? No. I mean more then once Jesus fed the multitudes but this is the only account of finding tax money in a fish. Why?

Not 100% sure, but I wonder if it is because sometimes, we have to be willing to let Him do the crazy in our lives. Sometimes, we have to do the unexpected. Do the crazy to see His Glory.

I am so up for crazy, how about you?

Dream a little dream of me...

That's me in my dining room/office. My daughter, Brennan took this. Notice the bottle of Windex on the table? Yeah, I was trying to get permanent marker off the table when I decided I was needed on Facebook instead.

This is where I come and meet you in the mornings or at night or okay, a good portion of the day because I am way addicted to the key board and screen. When I took the NYS typing regents, I had no idea what good use I would put that 90-words-a-minute skill.

I was told in my Sophomore year of high school...excuse me, I didn't attend high school....I attended a Preparatory Academy, but I digress. I was told that I should drop the academic classes and take secretarial classes instead....Maybe go to Katherine Gibbs in the City. I was told to not even consider college...good advice, given that I got a 750 on the SAT's, combined.

So I learned steno, a way deader language then Latin, I might add. And I scored an internship as a secretary at IBM my senior year. I didn't get the internship because of my grades, it was pure charm that got me in there. The teacher who organized it all, liked me. So she gave me a shot...I let her down when I quit before Christmas. I HATED IT!

In my heart, up to the ripe old age of 17, I had a plan: Become a secretary, no college thank you very much, marry the boss, make babies and live happily ever after. No, seriously, that was the whole plan. Oh, except that while I was the secretary, I would wear spectator pumps and great suits like Princess Diana.


Oh, and I would not be giving up the shoes once I had achieved the happily ever after status either...no way. I would wear them to the supermarket...like my grandmother did. I had it all worked out.
Except that I was a lousy secretary...and I HATED it, not just at Big Blue...everywhere. And so I ran to college and achieved quite the cumulative average of 0.05~and that does not just happen, it takes skill. Do you have any idea how many classes you have to cut in order to achieve that kind of average in a junior college?

But I charmed my way into a four year woman's college...didn't finish that either. I was pretty sure I could still marry the boss. I would just not meet him at work. I would need to meet him in a bar...a good bar. Like one of the ones on Wall Street...yeah, never got around to that...Thank You Jesus!

And then God called me to be a nurse...There was no charming the interview staff at Cochran School of Nursing. As a matter of fact, not one of them commented on my gray, suede pumps or fantastic gray plaid suit (it was a shorts suit, remember them?) but one of them did inform me that I would need to get rid of my acrylic nails...the sacrifice of a nurse.
There is no human reason I even got in to Cochran. When they asked why nursing, I told them about my mom (some of them knew her as a patient) and the fact that this was vocational. They let me in...And they were pretty sure I would fail the first test.
But I didn't...I made it all the way through and I adored proving them wrong. I got the whole package when I met John in the ER and we now live our happily ever after...I did meet the boss at work after all!

Why this trip down memory lane this morning? I have been dreaming again, while I scrub permanent marker off of my table or mop the bathroom floor (in between I kind of think bad things about the previous home owner who put down a white tile floor in there. Five kids, a husband and a dog do not do well with a white tile anything!) or while I am driving my mini-van taxi to and from the next assignment with the kids.

But I don't want anymore daydreams and fabulous Maryellen ideas to interrupt my life. I don't want to spend a couple weeks or months or years with an idea that is only based in M.e...I want His vision, His dream, His plan...and the steps to take to see it all the way to the end.

I have had an idea for a woman's conference for a few years now...but NO WAY was I going to do it. I've had friends in charge of those types of things and I have seen how those same conferences can wreak havoc in the home on children and marriages. Remember the whole Beth Moore~ism: "No amount of success in ministry is worth failure at home." I pray that every day...
The conference has turned into a Friday night event...And while I am excited by the idea, I have seen enough to be terrified of doing the whole thing. Not afraid of man, more a fear of the Lord...Holy fear. Because with out Him, it's just another fabulous Maryellen idea...and the world has had enough of those to last this lifetime.

...Oh, and it is doomed for certain failure by the way. No one will sponsor it. No church organization anyway. And it looks like it will be in February...in NY, that means snow is a good possibility...It will never get done. Just like going to nursing school after being told I would fail chemistry at the age of 15...Yeah, I got an "A" in college, when I took it unto the Lord.

So pray, my blogesphere friends. Pray when you think of it that The Lord's plan not meet with my resistance or fabulousness. He is so much more fabulous then me, don't you think? And I only want my dreams to be His will or rather I want His will to be my dream.

Oh I almost forgot! I don't wear spectator pumps around the house after all. I do wear shoes, just not the ones I thought I would wear...these are way more of a blessing!

Oh, and my toes are way cuter too!

Boundary lines drawn...

"We trust God in most areas of our lives—but our faith always has boundaries and limits. We have at least one small area that we block off, where we don’t really believe God is going to undertake for us ." David Wilkerson

Well that shook the ground this morning. I mean shook it!

Ahhh. Woman of faith that I am...unless we are talking money. You would think, at this point, I would believe Him. But I still struggle with it when the bills are do. And when I say struggle, I mean playing tug-o-war with a tiger and a stick, kind of struggle.

...and I get cranky...and I am impatient...and I don't want to get off the couch. Sigh.

But He is yet, still God. When I feel hopeless, He is the God of all Hope. But I have to say, it takes a couple of days for me to get there. Not quite 40 years wandering in the desert, but still way long.

Why? Maybe it is my own boundaries with the Lord. I say I trust Him, but...

This morning as I woke up, I had that heavy heart again...the one that is convinced that I can never get it all done. The one that avoids the bills because they are there and I get afraid there won't be enough. I HATE this job...even though I am the one that asked John to let me do it...because I was sure I could do it better.

You see, I don't actually want to trust God with the details of our check book...I want a win-fall where all our financial needs are met at one time and forever more. THEN I will give away freely:
To feed the poor.
To clothe the naked.
To visit the imprisoned.

Or maybe He wants me to trust Him in season and out. When things were bad, he met every need. Things are not bad anymore. We are on the other side of it...but the fear lingered on. Fear based in disbelief...That boundary that David Wilkerson was talking about up top.

Do I or do I not believe Him to be our Provider? Most days, or I should say, most hours I do. He has never failed, me or anyone else for that matter.

Remember the old song, "One, day at a time, sweet Jesus, that's all I'm asking of You." And maybe I start with that list of Thanksgiving for all He has already done...excuse me won't you? I have this most amazing God, waiting to hear from me.

Be blessed dear ones. Start with the Thank Yous and see what happens to your requests...they may just change by the time you get to the Amens!

“Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” (Psalm 139:16)

Monday and Thank You very much...

If you can, go take a look at this awesome woman's vision to live a life of thanksgiving. I feel blessed to have found her and I love this idea. So starting today, Monday will be "Thank You Monday." What a great way to start the week, I think...and you know, my blog and all that.

You may have noticed of late a lot of grumbling from me of late. Maybe it is just Post Traumatic What The Heck Do You Do When Everything Is Brand New In Your Life Disorder...we have had a lot of new with out a whole lot of not knowing what to do in our lives these past few months. Time to stop and count how many roses there are to smell.

So stop and think about what you are grateful for. I will post stories for some of the things on my list...but today I will just post the start of my Thank Yous. And just so you know, some of them will be quite shallow, but not number One.

1. Jesus.
2. I woke up next to the love of my life.
3. No teenager angst on Sunday.
4. Jack is not afraid of righteousness.
5. The JETS won!
6. My living room is clean, sigh.
7. I have a place to sit and just be.
8. I was called to sit with Him this morning.
9. I get to start this journey towards a thankful heart...
10. I can pay the bills today.

He said, She said...

Over the years, John and I have often talked about what a great couple we are, with each other. This morning it feels a little bit like the hypocrite in the Gospel of Matthew where the guy stands up and prays thus:
"I thank you Lord that I am not like other men! I pay my taxes on alllllllllll that I owe and I pray twice a week. Did you get that Lord Twice a week!"

The way the story goes, according to the way we told it:
"If Maryellen," or John if I am the teller, duh. "wants the house painted orange with purple poka-dots, I will paint the darn house orange with purple poka-dots. It is not going to be all that important in the end. Why care that much?"

Last night, we "discussed" the paint color of the house. I want the new balcony stained. I can't have it. He wants it painted...yuck. I gave in to paint but I want the bottom painted charcoal gray...the darkest it can be without being black. He wants it yellow. "

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Screams my heart.

As we "discussed" I was getting more and more annoyed.
Me: "I can't see fighting over this. Can't we try painting it yellow? It's one roller over on the front board and if I simply can't live with it, we try the black? It's easier to paint over the yellow anyway."
Himself: "I didn't realize we were fighting. I don't want to create more work for me. I want to paint it once and be done."
Me: "Make no mistake. We are fighting over it. Whatever, do what you want. It's YOUR project now."

Silence...

What have we proven here? Neither of us cares if the house is painted orange with purple poka-dots, for sure. Any other normal combination is an invitation to The Cold War part 2.

This is the "normal" type of stuff couples disagree over. I know that if I want to dig in, I could win just as easily as he could. Come on, we are a combination of Irish, Russian, and German...you honestly think we couldn't pull blood out of a stone on this if we wanted to?

I just don't want to win. I want to hear him say:

"YOU were so right! What was I thinking? I should have gladly done what you wanted all along. Who was I to think my way would be better anyway? You are the Decorator in Chief around here and I submit to your superior talent!"

I would stand on my new balcony, hot coffee in hand, on a chilled Fall morning, resting in my victory, overlooking my spoils...as in spoiled rotten that is.

We are in the middle of a crazy season both as parents and as spouses. Wouldn't the enemy of our souls love to plant a seed of discontent in both of us? Yeah, I think so too.

I woke up this morning, still 100% right. Yay me? Nah. John is the love of my life. In the end, it won't matter one layer of paint who picked the color. It will, however, matter how well we loved each other. Now I fear, we will argue over who gets to give in...like I said, it has been a season!

Let him paint it yellow. It is not really all that important. Unless of course it is the wrong yellow...

A new skill...

Is this working?

I ask because I just learned how to send a post to my blog via my phone...Look how savvy I am now! Next, I try to send a picture! I love learning new things, even when they are very silly like this!

MarCalulate, but don't save...

I've told the story that I never remembered to give Mom a napkin with her meals. I would bring breakfast/lunch/dinner, sans the napkin, into her room and place the meal on her tray. She would knock ("a shave and a hair cut..." but almost never got to the "two bits." part) and I would turn around.
"Napkin, please?" She would say with her lips only. Her smile rivaling a Cheshire cat, as if she had just busted me for some great act of silliness.
"Sigh." I would think, and go off to get her nap~a~kiny as Dad called it.

Fast forward a decade plus later. Each time Dad would come for a visit to his grands, while he ate, he would ask for a nap~a~kiny...and I would tear off a paper towel. He would shake his head.

When Dad died, my friend Amy helped me clean out his apartment. I cleaned out the kitchen and took all of his cleaning products and whatever food I could find that was okay for our kids...except the Mallomars, I ate them while I worked. I won't mention the Viagra I found in his medicine box....it still makes me crack up and shiver at the same time! But don't worry, I won't mention it!

Since we were moving into our new home, the cleaning products came in quite handy. But the day I finished the Windex, I cried. When the Pledge was empty, I cried again. Scrubbing bubbles made me just about boo-hoo myself silly.

But that bag of MarCal nap~a~kinies...I hid them. I kept them on the shelf with my mom's and granny's china. There was only one left.

Last night I ran to the store and forgot to get toilet paper and paper towels...

"I think there is one role left. No you don't need to drip dry." I declared to the kids.

And life went on this morning. When I handed John his breakfast, he asked for a paper towel...

"In the same isle as the toilet paper, over in Walgreen's, I think."

John laughed and then I remembered, I had a napkin...just one.

His back was turned and I climbed up Maggie's step stool into the china cabinet and took down the bag of MarCal napkins.

I handed it to him and he wiped his mouth just before he saw the tears in my eyes and the empty bag in my hand. And then he got tears in his too. He knew...

"You shouldn't have given me that! I was fine. Awe, Hon." And we hugged and cried in front of bewildered children.

"Be blessed. That was my dowry." And we laughed again.

I kept the bag. And I ran to Walgreen's and bought nap~a~kinnies to put into my grandmother's nap~a~kinny holder.

My dad's legacy is in my heart and for some reason, this morning, it was okay to let go of a flimsy napkin that can't represent him. He was as flawed a daddy as the world has ever seen, but he always had a hanky in his pocket and a napkin or twelve next to his plate.