Archive for July, 2006

July 31, 2006 @ 6:09 am | Filed under: Family

“And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden.”   Genesis 3:8   (KJV)

_____________________

          “Okay, you count and I will go hide and then you can find me!” 

          My niece,two-and-a half-years-old at the time, spouted these instructions before she very excitedly ran off to hide behind the big blue chair. 

          Pretending to search the living room over, I crept on hands and knees, delighted to hear her squeals of laughter when I at last “found” her.

          “Okay, Aunt Staci! It’s your turn now! Go hide and I will find you!”

          And so it was. Over and over we repeated this childhood game, until we both tired of it.  And you know what? We always got the same results. The hidden person was always found!

          Ever since the Garden of Eden man has been playing “Hide and Seek” with God.  Adam and his wife, Eve, felt shame and tried to hide from God, but they were found. 

          Jonah thought he was hiding from Him also, only to find himself in the belly of the whale where he finally faced the voice of God and decided to obey it.

          Jacob thought he’d traveled far enough from home to escape God’s eyes, only to have a midnight wrestling match that would bring him out of hiding and into truth.

          Today we attempt to hide from God in several ways.  Our jobs, entertainment, social activities, and even our friends and family provide avenues where we try to bury our energy, our talents, and our time.

          But, just like the childhood game, the results are always the same.  Sooner or later, we come face to face with God and realize that he "has found us!"

          My niece – along with her younger sister – have all but outgrown Hide and Seek. Sure, they still play, but now they prefer the more sophisticated game of…Tag. (Oh, the analogies we could draw from that game!)

          Hopefully, like my nieces, I’ve learned that hiding is never the answer and that truth is where the real adventure lies. It’s comforting to know that He knows exactly where I am and that He loves me in all of my imperfections and in spite of all my weaknesses.

July 29, 2006 @ 6:55 pm | Filed under: Family

Carter and Kendall spent the day with us, so our Saturday was full of smiles that only a two-year-old can inspire and conversations that only a four-year-old can instigate. (This is a pic of the kiddos riding the train at the mall.)

Just before they left with Pops tonight to meet up with their dad, Carter and I discussed the day.

"Did you enjoy our day, Carter?" I hugged him tight and tapped the brim of his baseball cap. "We did a lot, didn’t we?"

I, of course, was thinking about the hour spent on the playground, lunch at Chick-fil-A, the train ride, and an impromtu visit at Grandmom and Grandad’s house.

"Yeah," he nodded and seemed to agree with me. "But…Jordan was my favorite part."

Forget Kids Meal toys, brightly-colored train cars, and trips to the Dollar Store for…whatever you want on the toy aisle!

Who wants those things when you have a teen-age uncle that gets on the floor and acts crazy with you!

Gotta love that.

Don’t you love the way a child thinks? The way they form thoughts, and then opinions, on the world around them. Here’s some funny things that only a kid can say!

• 3-year-old, Reese:  "Our Father, Who does art in Heaven, Harold is His name.  A-men."
• A little boy was overheard praying: "Lord, if you can’t make me a better
  boy, don’t worry about it.  I’m having a real good time like I am."
• A Sunday school class was studying the Ten Commandments. They were ready to discuss the last one. The teacher asked if anyone could tell her what it was.  Susie raised her hand, stood tall, and quoted, "Thou shall not take the covers off the neighbor’s wife."
• After the christening of his baby brother in church, Jason sobbed all the
  way home in the back seat of the car.  His father asked him three times
  what was wrong. Finally, the boy replied, "That preacher said he wanted us
  brought up in a Christian home, and I wanted to stay with you guys."
• A mother had been teaching her three-year old daughter, Caitlin, the Lord’s
  Prayer for several evenings at bedtime. Caitlin would repeat after her mother the lines
  from the prayer. Finally, Caitlin decided to go solo.  The mother listened with pride as
  she carefully enunciated each word right up to the end of the prayer:
  "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us some E-mail.  A-men."
• A Sunday school teacher asked her children, as they were on the way to
  church service, "And why is it necessary to be quiet in church?"  One
  bright little girl replied, "Because people are sleeping."
• Six-year-old Angie and her four-year-old brother Joel were sitting
  together in church. Joel giggled, sang, and talked out loud.  Finally, his
  big sister had had enough. You’re not supposed to talk out loud in church."
  "Why? Who’s going to stop me?" Joel asked.  Angie pointed to the back of
  the church and said, "See those two men standing by the door?  They’re
  hushers."
• A mother was preparing pancakes for her sons, Kevin, 5, Ryan 3.  The boys
  began to argue over who would get the first pancake.  Their mother saw the opportunity for a moral lesson. "If Jesus were sitting here, He would say,
  ‘Let my brother have the first pancake, I can wait.’"  Kevin turned to his
  younger brother and said, "Ryan, you be Jesus!"

July 27, 2006 @ 8:49 am | Filed under: Uncategorized

As the mother of two (almost grown) boys, this summer is finding me virtually overwhelmed with emotions of all kinds.

Torn between immense pride and bittersweet regrets, I constantly alternate between anticipation of the men they are about to become and a lonesome ache for the little boys they once were.

When I think of Nate and Jorge, in my mind’s eye they are still two and three years old. Tow-headed little guys who loved their Grandmommy, their sandbox, and Little Debbie snacks (not necessarily always in that order) to distraction.

As a young mother I seemed to always be shouting instructing, "You CANNOT jump on that bed!"

Or, "You CANNOT ride your bike in the street, what were you thinking?"

Or – maybe the best yet – "You CANNOT hit your brother! WHO told you it was all right to do this?"

Of course, later on, the list of CANNOTs grew in severity of nature and consequence and, most of the time, was not a pleasant time for any of us. Lectures on peer pressure, making right choices, and dealing with repercussions when wrong ones were chosen instead were tough to give. And, for them, I’m sure they were tough to hear.

This morning, as my two young men – whose feet now hang off the ends of their beds – continue to sleep in, my heart is spilling over. I wonder if, in the big midst of all the CANNOTs, I also gave enough YOU CANs.

And I’m wondering if I’m about ready to turn over eighteen years worth of letters to the two people who made my job as their mother the absolute best ride – ever. I wrote them notes and letters on all occasions, but more especially in times of great angst or great pride.

Birthdays, groundings, fights arguments, times of success in school and in the home…I write to purge myself of feelings and emotions that beg for release but can’t yet be trusted in verbal wordage.

So I wrote.

But did I ever say some of these things aloud? And, if I did, did I say them enough?

So, today, in honor of all that I am feeling and sorting through, here are thirteen things I absolutely, without-a-doubt, believe my boys CAN do. And this is a list that I will share with them…today.

Nate and Jorge,

1. You CAN be anything you want to be. You are my child but, more importantly, you are a child of God. Playing it small doesn’t serve the world. Don’t shrink just so the folks around you will feel more secure. You were born to manifest the glory of God that is inside of you.
2. You CAN follow your dreams. It’s okay. Vincent Van Gogh once said, "If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced." There is so much hidden strength inside of you, just waiting to be discovered.
3. You CAN make a difference in the world around you. I promise. Don’t be afraid to be the one who stops and chats with the guy or gal who is lonely, or alone. Don’t hesitate to offer your own knowledge, compassion, and wisdom to the people around you. You have such value. It is yours to share.
4. You CAN make this transition from boyhood to manhood, and quite successfully at that. Stay away from people who throw rocks at your ambitions and laugh at your dreams. Surround yourself with the people who are courageous enough to not only dream their own dreams, but also share yours.
5. You CAN be an individual. Be proud of who you are. You’re a marvel, a masterpiece. No one quite has your eyes, or your fingers, or your mind. Take care of these gifts from God. Use your talents wisely, but largely.
6. You CAN overcome adversity. Like it or not, life is full of challenges. Some see them as obstacles, while others will call them opportunities. I pray you’ll see each challenge as the opportunity to change something for the better.
7. You CAN recover from mistakes. Failure, too, is a fact of life. I’ve certainly made my share (probably more) of bad choices, and you will too. But don’t let those disappointing moments be what defines you. Rise up and try again.
8. You CAN turn a disability or a handicap into something beautiful. I think it was Martin Luther King, Jr., who said to take the first step in faith. You don’t have to have a clear view of the entire staircase, just take the first step.
9. You CAN be joyful. I learned when I was just a few years older than the two of you the difference between joy and happiness. Happiness too often is determined by things or people or circumstances. But joy – wow, joy begins on the inside and works its way to the outside. Be happy with the person that you are. Take time to know yourself, your beliefs, and your dreams. Joy is in those things. Trust me on this.
10. You CAN smile, even when you don’t really want to. “Smile at each other, smile at your wife, smile at your husband, smile at your children, smile at each other — it doesn’t matter who it is –and that will help you to grow up in greater love for each other.” —Mother Teresa
11. You CAN change the world. I believe in you. God believes in you. Listen to this old proverb and then claim it as your own. "If there is light in the soul, there will be beauty in the person. If there is beauty in the person, there will be harmony in the house. If there is harmony in the house, there will be order in the nation. If there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world." Guys, let it start with you.
12. You CAN be friendly even when you’re feeling anything BUT. It’s hard, I know, but – take it from me – it’s worth the effort. It’s amazing how much one forced, yet geniune, smile to another person can change your own attitude or view of the day. Smiles are life-changing. They can change yours, and they can change others.
13. You CAN always…call ME. I’m your mother, the one who loves you no matter what. That will never, ever change. You’ll grow to be men with families and careers and lives that are separate and apart from my own. But our hearts will always be entwined and your dreams and your feelings and the essence of who you are will always be safe with me.

I love you,

Mom

                  

July 26, 2006 @ 12:32 pm | Filed under: School Stuff

"Mathematics is not a careful march down a well-cleared highway, but a journey into a strange wilderness, where the explorers often get lost."            —W.S. Anglin

_________________________

THANK. YOU.

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

For me math is, at best, a grand test of patience, endurance, and that gnarly feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you know (you just…know) that things are about to get very, very bad.

Math and I go way back. All the way back to first grade, in fact.

The relationship started off well, with grainy, purple-ish mimeographed pages (remember these predecessors of color copies and laser-printed sheets?) of neatly printed addition and subtraction problems.

"Staci, meet the plus sign. Plus would like to add two apples to your pile of four oranges. How many pieces of fruit do you have now?"

As long as I could equate math with fruit or cookies, or even pencils or pennies, it was all good. Dare I say, even a tad bit…fun?

It all began to go awry mid-semester of my freshman year in high school. One word says it all, seven little letters. A-L-G-E-B-R-A.

I went into the class a little cocky (because I’d never had to work very hard to make good grades before) and more than a little naive (who knew that polynomials and variables could BE so obstinate?)

By the time I’d managed to crawl through Algebra I by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin, I walked into Mrs. Payne’s sophomore geometry class with my tail tucked between my legs.

I was cautiously hopeful that isosceles triangles and terms like area, volume, and perimeter would be kinder and gentler in nature – but I was not holding my breath.

Good thing.

It became a joke in the class that I would treat myself to a banana split at Braums if somehow – by the grace of God or osmosis or whatever worked – I managed to pass the increasingly difficult tests.

Mrs. Payne had the very annoying habit of reading the test grades aloud before handing them back. As if the humilation of a failing grade wasn’t enough on its own, now we had the added bonus of wanting to crawl beneath our desks whenever our name was called.

"Rogers," she would peer over her half-rimmed, silver reading glasses and make direct eye contact.

With bated breath, I would wait like a defendant on trial to hear my fate.

"Looks like you’re going to Braums today," she’d nod and give me the barest of grins. "You got a C."

I still remember the cheers of my classmates and that afternoon, about four o’clock, found a large group of my friends and fellow geometry cellmates clustered around a white Formica table at our local neighborhood Braums.

Some things in life just need to be celebrated, you know?

When (NOT if) I manage to bag the three credit hours of college Algebra that I need in my degree plan, I will celebrate large!

Anybody want in?

________________

Mike snapped this picture of me registering on-line for my classes at Quad C. He and the boys thought it would be "payback" for the many times I’ve declared "Scrapbook moment!" Do I look embarrassed? Nah – not a smidge!

July 24, 2006 @ 3:35 pm | Filed under: Family

"Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."   — Harold Whitman

_______________________

I stood not two feet from the runway. Surprisingly enough, a slight breeze softly caressed my cheek as I shaded my eyes and peered into the early morning sky.

Forty-five minutes earlier, a (quite cute) blue and white Cessna 172 had taxied down this very runway, past this very spot where I now stood. Close enough to glimpse the familiar orange shirt through the massive windshield and close enough to see that the person in that particular orange shirt occupied the left-hand seat.

The pilot’s seat.

My stomach clenched in anticipation and I momentarily considered shutting my eyes and not even looking. But somehow that would have detracted from the moment, and I knew without a doubt that this was a moment to be remembered.

A dream was being birthed right before my very eyes.

I stood in amazement and watched with wide eyes and a pounding pulse as the plane eased from the constraints of the small municipal runway and began a steady upward climb. Before I could release the breath I’d been holding, the Cessna had become nothing more than a tiny speck in the wide blue sky above me.

The thing was – it had taken my heart with it.

For as long as I’ve known him, Mike has talked about the day he’d resume flying lessons and finally obtain his private pilot’s license. For many of those years I was able to nod, mumble the appropriate wifely responses, and know that this dream wasn’t at the top of the list of dreams to finance.

But the day came and suddenly all those previously spoken wifely responses were called to active duty. It was time to pay more than lip service to a dream that had long since taken root in my husband’s heart.

I know a little something about heart dreams. And I’m a big believer in the pursuit of these dreams.

I guess it just helps when they don’t involve bodily endangerment and don’t require waivers, physicals, or rising 17,000 feet above the ground, you know?

So this past Saturday, for fifty minutes, I hung out close to the runway. Oh, I’d sit for a while and make a valiant attempt to read a magazine I’d brought along. But with every buzz of a distant engine, I’d leap to my feet and aim the viewfinder of my camera, zoom in, and hold my breath in anticipation.

Finally I spotted it as Mike made a final embankment and began to line the plane up with the runway. Pride rippled through me as a few guys from the office came out to watch "the new guy" make his first landing.

It was all I could do to stay behind the camera and capture it all on film. I would much rather have focused my eyes on the cockpit alone. But this was a dream in the making, and it deserved to be preserved for future generations.

"Nice."

I felt myself grinning like an idiot as the guy standing next to me nodded his approval at the gentle landing.

I smiled because I was proud. I smiled because I had managed to tame my own insecurities and fears and enjoy the experience.

But I guess I mostly smiled because my heart was safely on the ground again.

____________________________

For more pictures, check out the "Pilot Mike" album on the left.

July 20, 2006 @ 6:39 am | Filed under: Thursday Thirteen

I’ve given myself permission to take an official break from the mental gymnastics I’ve been doing this week, what with refreshing myself with algebra and working on finishing chapters of a WIP.  So I hope you’ll indulge me here and allow me to introduce you to some totally meaningless – some influential, and all surprisingly fun – internet sites.

Enjoy!

1. This is just to make you laugh and say, "Oh! I remember THAT!" (Make sure your speakers are on!)
2. Granted, I’ve been neck-deep in algebra review learning this week, but I still think you’ll find this quiz lots of fun. How "nerdy" are YOU? In case you’re wondering, I’m 28% nerd. Is this a good thing to know? I’m not sure yet…
3. Okay, all you shutterbug fanatics (like ME) who are always on the lookout for new and innovative scrapbook sites, dMarie is definitely one of those! But it’s more! Go to this site, plug in a date in time, and then see all the interesting things that happened on that date. I inserted July 19, 2006, and was reminded that gasoline was $1.29/gallon and Because You Loved Me by Celine Dion was an instant hit.
4. Two of my very best friends pastor this church. I miss them here in Texas, but I have no doubt that they are right where they are supposed to be! I’m so proud of you, Dawn and Kevin!
5. This is MY church. Can I just say that it is, bar none, the most dynamic, awesome church anywhere. I love it, I love the people there, I love the pastor!
6. Okay, here’s where the "meaningless" comes in. (Remember, before you judge me, that I’ve been immersed in math stuff for two days. Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, you know?) So…what kind of candy would YOU be – if you were candy, that is?Here is MY result:   "You’re chocolate. You’re the old soul type, people feel they have known you their entire life. Many often open up to you because they view you as thoughtful and trustworthy. Although people trust you, you have a hard time trusting them. You prefer to keep your feelings bottled up inside, or display them very quietly. It is alright to open up every once in a while."
7. This is for Cheryl! I pass on all the sudoku sites I find to her  – I think she’s <whisper> addicted to them. I tried it once, but numbers (translation: MATH) are involved so my attention span fell into that of ADD!
8. Speaking of MATH, check out these algebraic problems you can solve on-line. If I didn’t have such an aversion to said topic, I might just think this was a facsinating site.
9. Ah! Need I say more???
10. This is the Christian fiction bestseller list for July 2006. Number 20 is Kim Sawyer, one of my best writer friends and a trusted crit partner.If you haven’t read Waiting for Summer’s Return yet, run out and get yourself a copy! It’s…well, it’s a best seller! Congrats, Kim!
11. Saving Grace will be out in three weeks! Go here to read a preview and to order an early copy. Or…just email me or visit my website and I’ll make sure one is shipped to you!
12. This is an on-line Bible reference site that I use in a pinch when I’m thinking of a verse, but can’t quite remember where’s it’s found. Great site…
13. Toula Butler is a character in my novel, Melrose Miracle. Check out this video to see where I found such marvelous southern inspiration! (Speakers again.) And then read the snippet below that introduces Toula to Ella.

(Excerpt from Melrose Miracle)

Ella twisted around to get a better look at the jovial matriarch of the network. A salt-and-pepper wedge haircut framed a round angelic face. And if Toula Butler’s smile had been any brighter, Ella mused, they wouldn’t have need of the studio lights.

“Hel-lo, yawl!” With her trademark Georgia drawl and distinctive Southern charm, Toula Butler ushered the finalists into the next portion of the competition. “Who’s ready to do some good ‘ol down home cookin’ this afternoon?”

For the next half hour Ella sat entranced as Toula Butler whipped up one of her specialties—Southern fried chicken and smashed red potatoes. When the cheery host of Toula’s Home Cooking dropped in a whole stick of butter—butter not margarine—Ella almost fell off her chair.

It seemed as though everyone these days ate either low-fat or low-carb. Always one or the other, and never both at the same time. To see someone throw trends out the window like they were yesterday’s trash was both startling and liberating.

Ella couldn’t stifle the grin on her face as Toula fried the chicken to the golden brown in the most oil Ella had seen in a pan at one time—ever.

“Man, oh man, oh man,” Ben sat up straight and patted his stomach as the meal neared completion, “Do y’all smell that?”

Ella had to agree. Toula Butler’s southern-inspired meal sent delicious aromas wafting in the air just above their heads. A loud rumble and growl from her own tummy reminded Ella that she’d skipped lunch.

I hope you’ve had fun perusing these sites! Drop me a comment and let me know your favorite sites. Maybe I’ll need them one day!

July 19, 2006 @ 11:01 am | Filed under: School Stuff

Do you dare to pursue your dreams – even if the road leading to them scares you silly?

A few weeks ago my friend, Dawn, asked the question: What makes you smile? It sounded simple enough and I automatically clicked into the comment section, poised my fingers over my keyboard, and…froze.

What makes me smile?

I could answer the obvious, but wouldn’t that sound a bit cliche? A toddler’s laughter. My husband’s jokes. A gorgeous day.

I smile about a lot of things. But what truly triggers that deepest of smiles, the one that starts somewhere within my soul, and then slowly radiates in fantastic ripples until it ultimately crawls across my face?

This morning I finally have the answer.

Feeling Jesus’ great unconditional love for me brings me the most sincere joy.

How amazing to know He loves me, but how utterly mind-blowingly amazing it is to know He loves me in spite of my shortcomings, my weaknesses, and my limitations.

I feel His gentle nurturing hand today as I wage a war of insecurity and doubt. He’s whispering words of encouragement even as I question the logic of recent decisions.

In my Thursday Thirteen a couple of weeks ago I alluded to the fact that I would be starting college this fall. Yep, that’s right. You heard it here first. Twenty years out of high school and I’m now stocking up on pens and pencils and three-subject notebooks.

For me.

Now that I’ve hung it out there for everyone in blog universe to know, now that I’m officially enrolled, advised, and equipped to start classes in a mere five weeks <gulp>, I’m experiencing real, honest-to-gracious panic attacks.

The kind where I wake up in a sweat, my thoughts spiraling in dizzy waves of What on EARTH was I thinking?

The kind where my heart races with such velocity that it’s actually painful.

The kind where I’m certain that I’m in no way at all intellectually or emotionally prepared for this adventure I’ve signed up for. That I’ve <Holy Cow!> paid money for!!!

The fear, trepidation, and anxiety all stems from one measley, four-letter word: M-A-T-H. Right now it is the bane of my existence as I painstakingly make my way through the workbook Forgotten Algebra in preparation for the Accuplacer exam I’ll be taking this next Monday morning.

This fear is a very real and present obstacle in my pursuit of a dream I’m daring to reach for. I want a degree in literature, for crying out loud. What place do binomials and quadratic equations have in this quest, I ask you?

And yet facts are facts. I have to have three credit hours of math.

Math and I have a wicked  history that goes WAY back, but that’s a story for another day, another post.

Suffice it to say, it’s a bit like being locked up with your most formiddable acquaintance. The one person you’ve just never been able to see eye-to-eye with. You’ve both made peace with the knowledge that you’ll maintain a healthy, respectful distance from one another and go your separate ways. Now – all of a sudden – you’re imprisoned in a cell together and the key to getting out is…getting along!

And yet…

Right now I’m smiling through tears because Jesus has met me this morning, right here in my room-with-a-view, as I’ve struggled with feelings of ineptness, insecurity, and even a brief lapse of mental clarity.

It’s a smile that started in the deepest part of me, the part that only He has access to. I’m sure He’s had easier jobs to do, but He was persistent, and loving, and firm – all attributes of a great father.

I am not proficient at math, but He loves me anyway.

Algebraic expressions do not, nor will they ever, define who or what I am or in any way control the life He’s destined for me to lead. (Can SOMEBODY give me an AMEN?)

But my smile represents so much more than just this realization. I smile because He loves me in moments of success and in moments of failure. He loves me when I  thrive and when I flounder. He loves me for everything I am and equally for everything that I am not.

He loves me for who He knows I will ultimately become.

And – because of that – I’m accepting the dare. I will pursue this dream of mine.

Even if it sometimes scares me silly.

July 18, 2006 @ 8:10 am | Filed under: Travel

Green, green, it’s green they say, on the far side of the hill. Green, green, I’m going away, to where the grass is greener still.

___________________

Some people have Cabo. Some have Maui. Some may choose NYC.

For me it’s here. Well, actually it’s a little further south, but I don’t write at our retreat so here is my writing home-away-from-home. This is where I come and remember how to e-x-h-a-l-e…

I love that I can be as integral a part of this small community as I choose, and yet retreat with my laptop to my upstairs room-with-a-view, or a shady park bench, or my favorite local eatery, and write to my heart’s content.

We arrived yesterday afternoon and, since Mike had to teach an evening class, I spent the time leisurely walking "my" town. I cruised in and out of shops that are alive with flavor and small-town charm. I chatted with local shop employees and sampled my favorite peach and mango salsa at the General Store.

You’ve got to love a town with an honest-to-goodness General Store, right?

When I felt I’d fully reacquainted with all my favorite spots and had allowed myself time to relish in all that I treasure about this place, I found a quiet table in a secluded courtyard and began to let my mind drift naturally to the next few days.

I’m working on The Revival this week, and I’m excited to see what will evolve with this story as the week progresses. I’ve worked on this book in snatches of divine inspiration and in times of  great burden.

I’ve learned for the most part to attach myself to a chair and just WRITE, inspiration or no inspiration. Unfortunately, as a writer you don’t always feel the tickle of adrenaline and the spark of excitement about your characters and their lives.

But you trust your story, you trust your call to tell the story, and you press on. Just when you least expect it, the inspiration is back and your heart races a bit faster as the story spills out of you.

With The Revival it’s different, and has been from the beginning. This story I simply cannot tell on my own. It’s taking a lot of prayer, a lot of reflection, and a lot of patience. I go through stages where the story seems to flow straight from my heart, through my fingertips, and onto the computer screen, only to come up against a mental, emotional, and spiritual brick wall.

I’ve learned the hard way to step away from it at those times. Breathe deeply. Give the story time to sit and simmer. I move on to other projects and sometimes it’s months before I go back to the people of Calvary, Louisiana.

People like Cecily, and Reece, and Pastor Wills Jacobsen, folks who deeply care about their town and who are in a fight to save the small community from the darkness that has invaded their peaceful surroundings.

It’s a fight to preserve sanctity, standards, and a code of ethics and justice that seem to be floundering all around them. But Calvary is in good hands – in HIS hands – and revival will put this small town on the map.

So, for now, I’m packing up my notebook and my inspiration and I’m going to leave the quietness of my room and find a spot in this adopted town of mine and I’m going to…write.

July 15, 2006 @ 7:42 pm | Filed under: Current Affairs

In January 1929, Erich Maria Remarque published All Quiet on the Western Front, a tale of one German soldier’s experience on the western front of World War I.

A hugely popular book, the storyline was almost immediately turned into a screenplay and, in 1930, became a major motion picture.

Both – the title and the theme – seem oddly appropriate to me today. Even as I eased out of bed this morning and padded stumbled to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of ambition…make coffee, the news in the background was alerting me to the fact that things in Israel and Lebanon had seemingly gone from bad to worse overnight.

Was it just yesterday that all the current events in the Middle East were filed under the labels such as "crisis" and "conflict"? Now terms like possible World War III and emergency evacuations are making headlines at a rate of speed that is just way too fast for me to comprehend.

So – for the moment anyway – I turned off the news, turned on the coffeepot, and retreated to my spot in the living room. It doesn’t have my name on it or anything, and is not even a chair that’s known as "Mom’s Only".

But it is a spot on the couch that is uniquely mine. It knows my body, and always cradles it in a way that is comforting and familiar. From years of repetitive thought/prayer/meditation time, this corner spot has become a place where I go to think, ponder, and plan.

And just be.

So, in the morning minutes before our Saturday becomes the crazy day I know it has the potential to become, I savor the quietness and the saneness.

I am the only one up and, save for the slow yet steady drip of my much-anticipated drug of choice morning cup of sunshine, the only sounds I hear are that of my own breathing and a neighbor’s dog somewhere far down the block.

And I feel at peace.

I’m feeling so tranquil, in fact, that, after a second cup of that special sunshine, I decide to prepare breakfast for my guys. My big guy (a.k.a. Mike) is now up and enjoying his own cup of coffee (yes, I do share, contrary to popular belief) but so far no sounds have come from Nate and Jorge’s end of the hallway.

So while the boys sleep on and while Mike sips his first cup of coffee and reads his Pilot’s Handbook on his laptop, I venture into the kitchen and begin to pull out a string of ingredients. Eggs, sausage, onion, and cheese… (Yes, the heavens did open up, a blinding shaft of light engulfed my small kitchen, and I do believe an actual angel choir broke into a contemporary version of the “Hallelujah” chorus.)

It’s not that I have anything against breakfast. I rather enjoy a leisurely conversation over a Denver Omelet and orange juice every once in a while. But at I-Hop or Cracker Barrel.

While the smell of quietly sizzling sausage, sauteed onions, and baking biscuits are the the scents that fill every Mitford kitchen I’ve ever read about, the long-lasting lingering aromas are where I take issues.

Jan Karon’s kitchen may be filled with the scent of freshly squeezed citrus right after her breakfasts, but this writer’s kitchen (a.k.a. MINE) tends to hold the morning meal hostage, refusing to let it go to aroma-heaven where it duly belongs.

But here’s the long and short of the morning breakfast deal.

I live with a bunch of boys of various ages, sizes, and shapes.

And boys like big breakfasts.

And I like these boys.

And I was feeling tranquil, what can I say?

So for a brief amount of time in our house this morning, sausage quietly sizzled and biscuits gently baked and – for the moment anyway – all thoughts of the Mid-East crisis, the Israeli conflict and soaring gas prices were nothing but a distant hum in my memory as…

all was quiet on the Wilder front.

July 13, 2006 @ 12:10 am | Filed under: Family,Thursday Thirteen

Tomorrow is Mike’s birthday so here’s thirteen things you may or may not know about the history behind the man.

You already know he loves ice cream. V-a-n-i-l-l-a ice cream, that is. Just to prove that point, check out this picture. He’s passing on his vast knowledge to future generations of ice cream connoisseurs!

1. Mike’s mom was a pastry chef for DISD while he was growing up. She used to make up to 36 double-crust pies by 11:00 a.m. each morning. Mike developed a real love and true appreciation for sweets at a young age. I don’t know if that’s the reason why, but …
2. He makes a mean apple pie from scratch, including the crust. He’s very handy with a vacuum cleaner too, but don’t let this and the fact that he’s secure enough in his masculinity to wear a light pink shirt confuse you. He’s a man’s man, for sure, and can hunt and fish with the best of them, if he chose to do so. But hey, if he wants to stay home and make us apple pies, you won’t find me complaining!
3. He played defensive lineman for the Baylor Bears on a full football scholarship from 1969 – 1972. He suffered a severe broken leg during Spring Training in 1970 and spent a year in a cast. After a long recovery, he returned to the field in August of 1971.
4. He majored in education, but never taught a day in his life.
5. He rode horses as a volunteer with the Oklahoma County Sheriff’s Office for eight years. He participated in crowd control for large events, searches for lost people, parades, and patrolled the woods surrounding Tinker Air Force Base whenever the President came to Oklahoma City.
6. Besides his apple pie, Mike is known among our friends as the king of guacamole. It’s so good. I love it. And him. And the guac. But him more. Yeah…definitely him more.
7. He spent several weeks in Southeast Asia in 1986, selling and arranging for oilfield equipment shipments. While there he went up the KB River from Brunei where the world-record 32-foot Python was captured just months before.
8. He went back to Baylor in 1998 and earned his MBA. This made him very, very smart. At the end of the two years the class traveled to Europe to fulfill the international business requirements. It seemed to him like a good time to marry me. This made him even smarter.
9. We spent a week in Paris for our honeymoon and then met up with the rest of the EMBA class for another week in Vienna and Prague.
10. Mike has an avid interest in sign language, piano, and guitar. He’s taken lessons in all three as an adult and is actually quite proficient at…one of the three. No, wait, make that two of the three. No, no. Just one.
11. He gets seasick on the ocean. But he’s working really hard to overcome this so he can take his wife on a cruise for her fortieth. Patches all the way, baby!
12. Mike has been to 32 of the 50 United States and has visited 13 foreign countries. Yet he saw the Grand Canyon for the very first time this summer.
13. Mike logged 30+ hours toward his private pilot’s license back years ago. I gave him an hour of airtime for Christmas last year and the "bug" bit again. So…for this birthday I’m finally swallowing my own trepidation and giving the gift he’s really been wanting and waiting for: my blessing. On July 22nd he’ll begin to log the final 10-15 hours in the air and will go through ground school. Prayers are welcome. For us both.

Happy 55th birthday, honey! I love the way you love me, the way you love our children, and the way you love our family and friends. But most of all, I love the way you love Jesus.