Today I am getting my family ready for our Spring road trip. We have chosen as our destination Colonial Williamsburg. This year I am traveling with my mother and 3 young children. My husband has decided to stay at work and have a vacation from the chaos of 3 bickering siblings suffering from cabin fever over Spring break. I decided early on that I would invite my mother to join us on a road trip. After my father passed away I was worried that my mom would never get to a lot of the places they had talked about going to. My father's battle with cancer was long and hard on our family and his death was harder than any of us thought it would be. The last time I was in Williamsburg with my husband and kids I tucked a picture of my dad into my purse and brought him along for the ride. This time I will not tuck that picture into my purse for he is safely and securely planted in my heart.
My mother and I have traveled this road of lose together for the last 4 years. My journey has been somewhat different, as I lost a father and she a husband. We have walked side by side and at times diverged from the same path, always to find our way back to one another for a quiet rest. My road has been dotted with hills and valleys, some of which I have been unable to cross over while others I have been able to soar high above. I could have done none of it without my mother. I could not have walked anywhere without the Lord. Often the walking has been enough for me and other times I struggle to get to a destination. I have found that getting to the destination isn't always as satisfying as the trying to get there was. Today I am preparing for a journey that has an exact physical destination but I am looking forward to the 'getting there' as well. I can't wait to see what the road will bring, what new people will be placed upon it, what new sights and smells will be delivered. Much as our forefathers must have sensed along their journey to building a new nation, I look forward to letting go of the past and going into the future.
The highlight of a trip to Williamsburg for me has always been the entrancing march of the fife and drum band down the main street of Colonial Williamsburg. My heart skips a beat as I can hear the winds of time in the notes of the fife and the marching on of life that is pounded out on the drum. I am excited to share this with my mother, to walk side by side with her on this road, to feel in unison, perfectly patriotic.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
Perfect DVD Review
A Children's DVD Review: Gigi God’s Little Princess “Gigi’s Big Break” Sheila Walsh
"Gigi's Big Break" is a two-story DVD about Gigi, the main character from Sheila Walsh's children's books. In the first story, Gigi breaks a vase but blames it on her pet cat. When her mom doubts her story, Gigi embellishes it to convince her, but the lies continue to grow until Gigi can no longer bear it and finally confesses. Her parents help her see the damage that lying can do. Teaches the lesson of 1 John 1:8-9.
The second story begins with Gigi learning that she is going to be a big sister. Gigi's first response is, "Why?" She's used to being the only child and the center of their world. Afraid that her parents will no longer love her when the baby arrives, she plans to run away and live with her best friend. But Mom and Dad reassure her their love for her will never change, and she soon discovers the joy of being a big sister. Teaches the lesson from Jesus’ prayer in Luke 10:21.
This video held the attention of both my 5 year old son and 3 year old daughter. The lessons presented were easy for them both to grasp, while enabling them to identify with the main character. As an educator and Sunday School teacher, I was very pleased with Sheila Walsh’s delivery of the scripture messages. This video is not only entertaining and educational for home use, it is a must for lesson extensions at any Sunday School. I feel that this video can meet the needs of multi-aged groups and leads to open discussion about who Gigi came to apply the word of GOD in her life.
After viewing this video my children were able to give real life examples from their own experiences that reinforced the scripture presented. As a mom this enabled me to open up conversation with them as to how we can better apply what we know GOD wants us to do in our own lives. Our family highly recommends this video and suggests you add it to your own DVD library.
Thomas Nelson has provided me with a complimentary copy of this DVD.
"Gigi's Big Break" is a two-story DVD about Gigi, the main character from Sheila Walsh's children's books. In the first story, Gigi breaks a vase but blames it on her pet cat. When her mom doubts her story, Gigi embellishes it to convince her, but the lies continue to grow until Gigi can no longer bear it and finally confesses. Her parents help her see the damage that lying can do. Teaches the lesson of 1 John 1:8-9.
The second story begins with Gigi learning that she is going to be a big sister. Gigi's first response is, "Why?" She's used to being the only child and the center of their world. Afraid that her parents will no longer love her when the baby arrives, she plans to run away and live with her best friend. But Mom and Dad reassure her their love for her will never change, and she soon discovers the joy of being a big sister. Teaches the lesson from Jesus’ prayer in Luke 10:21.
This video held the attention of both my 5 year old son and 3 year old daughter. The lessons presented were easy for them both to grasp, while enabling them to identify with the main character. As an educator and Sunday School teacher, I was very pleased with Sheila Walsh’s delivery of the scripture messages. This video is not only entertaining and educational for home use, it is a must for lesson extensions at any Sunday School. I feel that this video can meet the needs of multi-aged groups and leads to open discussion about who Gigi came to apply the word of GOD in her life.
After viewing this video my children were able to give real life examples from their own experiences that reinforced the scripture presented. As a mom this enabled me to open up conversation with them as to how we can better apply what we know GOD wants us to do in our own lives. Our family highly recommends this video and suggests you add it to your own DVD library.
Thomas Nelson has provided me with a complimentary copy of this DVD.
Perfectly "Sicklical"
I have been fighting a cold all week long and I am getting a little sick and tired of it. I have asked this miserable cold to leave my body at once; it has been ignoring my request. A 5,000lb cloud has landed on my head and taken up residence. It has caused me to pay too much attention to the physical and not enough on the emotional balance. I am familiar with this game my body plays with me, this passive aggressive attempt to detract me from dealing with the emotional issues at hand. None the less I find myself battling stomach problems, allergies or back aches whenever there is an issue I don't want to deal with. I believed that at least the knowledge of what my body and mind were doing would be enough, apparently not so much the case. I act like a brave soldier and try and dig deep down inside to find what it is exactly I am repressing. I think that at least if I allow my brain to fully process what is going on it will finally release my body.
Today I am still in a headlock, my brain is winning this match. My body has crumbled under the strong hand of my cerebral nemesis. My nose is running, my head is pounding and I have no doubt that my bowels will soon catch up with the rest of me. My choices are limited, go to bed and give in to my brain's control over me or sit up and talk it through. I can engage in a battle of words with my nemesis and finally quiet the thoughts that are causing this, or I can continue to ignore them and wait it out. The cold will pass, the bowels will work it through and life will go on, but the cycle will begin again another day.
As a wife, mother, daughter, sister and human being there are tremendous restrictions placed on us. We picture what it is to be the perfect person, we attempt to make ourselves fit into a mold that someone else has chosen for us. In many cases we give control of our destiny to some foreign body and then blame ourselves for failing to comply. We find ourselves in a battle to break the mold, yet we ourselves walk blindly into the battle. It has been a challenge to meet all of the expectations I have allowed others to put on me. I have failed miserably and found myself resentful for being put to the test to begin with. As it turns out I am my own worst enemy.
As I finish this article; a few days after I started; I have regained control of my symptoms. Have I won the battle of physical vs emotional, or have I merely quit to fight another day? I think the latter is more to the truth. This struggle will be mine for as long as I allow it to be and I'll be damned if I have mastered the art of this war. Today is a good day, there are no little hammers pounding at my head nor a vise gripped tightly around my neck. My nose has decided to stop running and my eyes have shrunk back down to their normal size. My skin tone has returned to it's normal shade of pasty pale and my stomach has stopped dancing the Argentinian Tango. Whether I will become a decorated soldier or remain a wounded mess has yet to be determined, but for now I will take this retreat as a small victory and live to fight another day.
Today I am still in a headlock, my brain is winning this match. My body has crumbled under the strong hand of my cerebral nemesis. My nose is running, my head is pounding and I have no doubt that my bowels will soon catch up with the rest of me. My choices are limited, go to bed and give in to my brain's control over me or sit up and talk it through. I can engage in a battle of words with my nemesis and finally quiet the thoughts that are causing this, or I can continue to ignore them and wait it out. The cold will pass, the bowels will work it through and life will go on, but the cycle will begin again another day.
As a wife, mother, daughter, sister and human being there are tremendous restrictions placed on us. We picture what it is to be the perfect person, we attempt to make ourselves fit into a mold that someone else has chosen for us. In many cases we give control of our destiny to some foreign body and then blame ourselves for failing to comply. We find ourselves in a battle to break the mold, yet we ourselves walk blindly into the battle. It has been a challenge to meet all of the expectations I have allowed others to put on me. I have failed miserably and found myself resentful for being put to the test to begin with. As it turns out I am my own worst enemy.
As I finish this article; a few days after I started; I have regained control of my symptoms. Have I won the battle of physical vs emotional, or have I merely quit to fight another day? I think the latter is more to the truth. This struggle will be mine for as long as I allow it to be and I'll be damned if I have mastered the art of this war. Today is a good day, there are no little hammers pounding at my head nor a vise gripped tightly around my neck. My nose has decided to stop running and my eyes have shrunk back down to their normal size. My skin tone has returned to it's normal shade of pasty pale and my stomach has stopped dancing the Argentinian Tango. Whether I will become a decorated soldier or remain a wounded mess has yet to be determined, but for now I will take this retreat as a small victory and live to fight another day.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Perfect Shades of Gray
I was wondering when I would no longer be able to ignore the every increasing presence of gray hair atop my head. For the last several years I have been able to give a nod of acknowledgment to these strands and not give them much thought. I had begun to develop a relationship with my few gray hairs. I could recall with pride when I found my very first one. It was the day after I gave birth to my first child that I noticed a few long gray hairs sweeping across my face. I wore them like a badge of honor, scars from my right of passage into motherhood. I wistfully tied them up into my signature ponytail and grew into my new found maturity. Our relationship grew with the birth of our second child when more of the ashen troops laid their mark atop my crown. I gave a nod of approval, but this time I was not as happy to welcome the invasion. Our family continued to grow and so did my conscious effort to ignore my graying hair. I was living in wonderful ignorance, unaware of my growing vanity. I was happy with my perfect shades of gray, or so I thought.
This is the year I turn 40, the year I am supposed to come into my own. My mother described turning 40 as the beginning of the decade she best knew who she was. I have been anticipating this year for some time. Looking forward I began to formulate a plan as to how I would approach this new awakening. I would finally take the time to write my first book ,I would finally love the skin I am in and I would really know who I was. Wait a minute, I was pretty sure I already knew who I was, my book had been something I had toyed with for years and quite frankly it'll take a miracle for me to love the stretched out droopy, post child-birthing skin I am in. Let's face it folks I am no more ready to embark on a 40's awakening than I was when I turned 30. The only obvious change is my now ever-present annoyance at my ever-invading shades of gray. The only change I could see coming my way this year was going to come out of a hair dye bottle. And so began my quest to battle the gray. Armed with a drugstore hair dye kit I set out to change, to quell the population of ashen invaders and to enter into 40 a Mocha Caramel Brunette.
I foolishly chose the night of the Oscar's to delve into this unknown territory of hair dye. Head turned upside down, hands gloved and children looking on in amazement I went to war. I had chosen as my weapon a non-permanent gray covering dye, after all I may some day make peace with the enemy. I squeezed and I mashed and I saturated my hair until I was sure I had achieved victory. With one flip of the head and a twist of an old towel the battle was over. My kid's eyes were wide and I could see a hint of terror and wonder in them. "Mommy did you mean to dye your face too?" asked my middle child. Rushing my hands to my face I could feel the tell-tale wetness of dye dripping down my forehead and ears. The thought occurred to me that this probably wasn't going to wash right off so I made a mad dash to the bathroom to assess the damage. Once sure that my face would not forever be streaked with mocha and caramel I continued to finish the job. I carefully removed the towel from my head to reveal the deed. Shockingly, my hair had not fallen out of my head into a heap at my feet as I had secretly feared. There was indeed a less noticeable amount of gray. The gray was definitely gone, but now a painful burn began to creep up on my scalp. Oh my goodness, what had I done. Grabbing the box and scouring over the instructions I looked for clues as to why my head was burning. It was possible I was having an allergic reaction to the dye, I may have left the stinky stuff on too long, or simply and more likely it was my punishment for being vain.
Today the burning has stopped and my grays have remained in exile. I have won the battle for now, but I am sure another one is just around the corner. We haven't even begun to talk about my battle with gravity! For now I will have to be content with my store-bought perfect shade of brown and worry about shrinking another day.
This is the year I turn 40, the year I am supposed to come into my own. My mother described turning 40 as the beginning of the decade she best knew who she was. I have been anticipating this year for some time. Looking forward I began to formulate a plan as to how I would approach this new awakening. I would finally take the time to write my first book ,I would finally love the skin I am in and I would really know who I was. Wait a minute, I was pretty sure I already knew who I was, my book had been something I had toyed with for years and quite frankly it'll take a miracle for me to love the stretched out droopy, post child-birthing skin I am in. Let's face it folks I am no more ready to embark on a 40's awakening than I was when I turned 30. The only obvious change is my now ever-present annoyance at my ever-invading shades of gray. The only change I could see coming my way this year was going to come out of a hair dye bottle. And so began my quest to battle the gray. Armed with a drugstore hair dye kit I set out to change, to quell the population of ashen invaders and to enter into 40 a Mocha Caramel Brunette.
I foolishly chose the night of the Oscar's to delve into this unknown territory of hair dye. Head turned upside down, hands gloved and children looking on in amazement I went to war. I had chosen as my weapon a non-permanent gray covering dye, after all I may some day make peace with the enemy. I squeezed and I mashed and I saturated my hair until I was sure I had achieved victory. With one flip of the head and a twist of an old towel the battle was over. My kid's eyes were wide and I could see a hint of terror and wonder in them. "Mommy did you mean to dye your face too?" asked my middle child. Rushing my hands to my face I could feel the tell-tale wetness of dye dripping down my forehead and ears. The thought occurred to me that this probably wasn't going to wash right off so I made a mad dash to the bathroom to assess the damage. Once sure that my face would not forever be streaked with mocha and caramel I continued to finish the job. I carefully removed the towel from my head to reveal the deed. Shockingly, my hair had not fallen out of my head into a heap at my feet as I had secretly feared. There was indeed a less noticeable amount of gray. The gray was definitely gone, but now a painful burn began to creep up on my scalp. Oh my goodness, what had I done. Grabbing the box and scouring over the instructions I looked for clues as to why my head was burning. It was possible I was having an allergic reaction to the dye, I may have left the stinky stuff on too long, or simply and more likely it was my punishment for being vain.
Today the burning has stopped and my grays have remained in exile. I have won the battle for now, but I am sure another one is just around the corner. We haven't even begun to talk about my battle with gravity! For now I will have to be content with my store-bought perfect shade of brown and worry about shrinking another day.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Perfectly Terrified
Today I entered into the 3rd grade world of my daughter's classroom. After fighting nerves all day, I packed my bag and headed out onto my journey. Now nerves have never gotten the best of me when being in front of a classroom, heck I used to teach. Twenty five inquisitive faces have only inspired never terrified me, that is until today. Today was different, today I was being more me than I have ever been in front of anyone. Today I was a writer, not just a mom who ferries her kids from place to place, or throws pretty decent kid's parties. Today I was sitting in front of my first critical audience, ready to bare my soul, or at least the souls of my characters.
I steadied myself and plunged right in. After I read the first few lines I knew I was indeed in friendly waters. My characters were met with kindness and curiosity, I had a captivated audience. Trying desperately not to embarrass my daughter, I read more, chapter after chapter. As I did I could feel my heart stop racing and open up so wide that I can truly say I love every aspect of writing. I even discovered that I love sharing my writing, which up to this point scared the heck out of me. It is no longer a solitary endeavor, done in the darkness of night after the kids are sleeping. Writing can hold an equal place in my heart. I can be a mom, wife and writer on a perfectly absurd pursuit of perfection. I am no longer perfectly terrified, I am perfectly passionate about all things in my life. Thank you my dearest daughter for allowing me into your world.
I steadied myself and plunged right in. After I read the first few lines I knew I was indeed in friendly waters. My characters were met with kindness and curiosity, I had a captivated audience. Trying desperately not to embarrass my daughter, I read more, chapter after chapter. As I did I could feel my heart stop racing and open up so wide that I can truly say I love every aspect of writing. I even discovered that I love sharing my writing, which up to this point scared the heck out of me. It is no longer a solitary endeavor, done in the darkness of night after the kids are sleeping. Writing can hold an equal place in my heart. I can be a mom, wife and writer on a perfectly absurd pursuit of perfection. I am no longer perfectly terrified, I am perfectly passionate about all things in my life. Thank you my dearest daughter for allowing me into your world.
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