Fantasyland Nightmare

It's halloween. Not a holiday.

I pay taxes so that my son gets an education. They mandate that he wears a costume to school and shut everything down to hold a dance in the afternoon, calling it Student Appreciation Day. Sound more like holiday for teachers day. "After all," they reason, "the kids will be so wound up, we won't be able to teach them anything anyway." No, actually that would be Nov. 1, the day AFTER they eat all the sugar.

The parade of costumes by my door was a mix of "Nightmare on Elm Street" with "Disney Fantasy" - both are pretty scary. I had one pirate and two Sponge Bob Square pants. My favorite was the pie. She was dressed as a pie. Although there is a certain movie that would make that costume not suitable for younger audiences. Not that I've seen it but the trailers leave no doubt.

I decided since my son has not yet become a teenager (18 more days), I would let him trick or treat one final time. I even caved and gave out candies. I also gave out cool cards with a Bible verse about God's love being the best treat of all. For the kids that asked what it was, I said "It is likely the most valuable thing you get tonight."

I've turned into my mother. Missionary turned housewife. But the tracts are way cooler now.

Detail Oriented?

Not really. Turn on the interior light in the van. Forget to turn it off. Need a boost to start the engine two hours later.

Turn off the microphone. Forget to turn it on. Sing but nobody hears until music director walks up and hands me a different mic. How embarrassing.

Think I didn't get a practice CD and find it after my performance is over. Duh.

But, I heard a great message and got to read Psalm 138 for the three weekend services. I witnessed 9 beautiful baptisms. I got to go to lunch with a new friend. I reconnected with an old friend over a very long coffeetime. My goalie son won his first hockey game of the season. I got to read several chapters in my current book while watching his practice. Made tomorrow's lunches for all three of us. Took care of team manager duties.

Sometimes the details really don't matter. As the message said, roll it all over to God (cast all your care on him). He cares for you and he works the night shift. Goodnight - my new day is starting and I need to rest!

Funny, I blog and God answers

The message in church tonight was on "God Works the Night Shift." Odd, because the pastor changed his subject this week. Did he read my blog? He spoke all about how God takes care of things just fine without me while I sleep.

Historical view of the cycle of the "day" is that the day started at sunset (Genesis: "And the evening and the morning were the first day"). Most of us think our days start with an alarm clock. No wonder we're so stressed. The first thing we hear is an alarm?

In embracing the concept that my day starts with sunset, I can realize that the first thing God wants me to do in my "day" is to relax and go to sleep. Staying awake, worrying or problem-solving, is not my job. God is on duty. He never slumbers, He never sleeps.

The difference between Him and I is that He doesn't sometimes think He is me.

Insomnia

Three nights in a row now. And family pictures tomorrow. Bleary-eyed expectation. Any tips for successful slumber?

Passion and Perception

Do what you love. Love what you do.

I'm so incredibly grateful that the hard work, dedication and cooperativeness of my husband has made it possible for me to become a Sidetracked Home Executive (SHE). I get sidetracked by all that needs to be done at home and church and school and neighborhood. I don't know how I didn't completely lose my mind working outside the home.

"The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands" by Dr. Laura is one of three books I am reading concurrently. I read in snippets while waiting in the dentist's office, the school parking lot, etc. or when I take a break for myself in between my other duties. She contends that man's needs are very basic: feed 'em, love 'em, cheer for them, ask politely once for what you really need, and keep your mouth shut about the rest. Okay, so that's really a very terse summary but I'm not far off. It has given me such a clear sense of how important it is to let hubby know how much I appreciate what he does.

I also talked with my son about the bad habit I had developed in being critical of his dad in A's presence and I apologized to him for that. I committed out loud to A that I would determine to change that habit and replace it with encouragement and could he find ways to encourage dad himself?

I am completely convinced that the absence of encouragement and the all-too-present nitpicking may well be the single most powerful depressant I have thoughtlessly leveled against my husband.

May God help me to have a complete paradigm shift in this matter.

My world is changing

They began draining the pond behind our cul-de-sac today. It sent me into the grieving process. Anger, denial, bargaining, resignation, but not acceptance. No sir. Sure, it's private land and the owner is entitled to do what he chooses with his property. But when the sale of the land to a development corporation directly affects the neighbors, social responsibility is also a consideration.

The community Realtor says it won't affect my property values because I don't back onto the pond. In fact, says the community association president, once the light industrial development construction is finished, the $100,000,000 addition to the community should raise our property values.

It may not affect my house value, but it will affect my quality of life. No longer will I hear the honking of migrating geese settling on the pond, nor will I see the beautiful glow of the sunrise reflecting off the water making pond and sky one glorious canvas. No longer will I enjoy walking the dog along the edge of the water, skipping stones and listening to the gentle ripple of tiny waves caressing the bank.

Progress is sometimes the enemy of peace. Lafarge, that huge multi-national corporation, needs a place to put all the fill they are removing from the Macleod-Glenmore interchange. The pond is the perfect place. After all, it was man-made to begin with, so why shouldn't man un-make it? And think of all the businesses to whom they can market this prime office/bay space that can be built on top of the fill that replaces the pond.

Oh there are benefits. We'll finally get a second exit out of the community and our drive to church will be much shorter. But then anyone can drive through - traffic will increase. And crime with it? Right now you have to have a reason to bother coming into the community. One way in, one way out.

Just another gentle nudge that this world is not my home and I dare not get too comfortable here. Heaven gives us glimpses of what's to come. The five years of beauty I enjoyed from the simple pond was a glimpse. I'll just have to look elsewhere for them now.

Pursuit

"So long as we imagine that it is we who have to look for God, we must often lose heart. But it is the other way about: He is looking for us. And so we can afford to recognize that very often we are not looking for God; far from it, we are in full flight from him, in high rebellion against him. And He knows that and has taken it into account. He has followed us into our own darkness, there where we thought finally to escape him, we run straight into his arms. So we do not have to erect a false piety for ourselves, to give us the hope of salvation. Our hope is in his determination to save us, and he will not give in. (Prayer)" -- Simon Tugwell

My story.

Tired but happy

I'm still very busy, even though I am not working, but I'm doing important stuff. Laundry. Dishes. Running A's sax to him that he forgot at home (glad he's only 10 minutes away). Making pizza dough enough for 15 large pizzas for Friday nite Pop and Pizza at church. Cleaning out an entire freezer full of spoiled food because my extension cord went on the fritz. Well I had wanted the opportunity to defrost the freezer and I got it. Took no effort at all and was very clean because there wasn't a lot of meat and what there was had been well sealed in plastic. I just dumped it all in the garbage and wiped out the excess clean water. It stands right in front of the basement drain so the water that leaked out didn't even leave a puddle on the floor. Small blessings. :-)

I have written or read nearly 100 emails about A's hockey team in the last 5 days. I am team manager and what a bunch of details to take care of!

Flames beat the Oilers tonight for the second time in 3 days, so B and A are both very happy. Curtis Joseph is doing an amazing job as goaltender for Wayne Gretzky's Phoenix Coyotes!

I'm barely able to move my neck, did something to it when moving the washer and dryer around I think. Had massage it doesn't seem to have given any relief. It's like it's wound up like a spring. I should go to bed, I need my rest. Hugs to you!

Of Lint and Perfectionism

Okay, I binged today. Not on food. On cleaning the lint in my laundry room.

I noticed the lint trap didn't go in all the way. Odd. Always had before. Cleaned it out. Still doesn't fit. Pull it out, look inside. Ohhhhh. Lint stuck in the bottom. I reached in the tight slot and pulled an 8 inch long 1 inch square patch of solid grey lint out from under the trap. No wonder it didn't fit. Put it back in. Still doesn't fit. Look closer. More lint. Take out all I can by hand. It made a pile roughly equivalent to the size of an airline pillow. I can't reach the rest.

Get the screwdriver, remove the lint trap cover. Reach in as far as possible and realize there is a cavernous space below the lint filter completely full of lint. I cleaned that out by hand. No wonder the drum was squeeking. It had no room to move!

Now please understand, we regularly clean our lint trap. How the dryer got this way was the question. Was my dryer exhaust blocked? I'd have to move the dryer. But alas, the exhaust hose is not long enough for me to get behind the dryer. I'll have to move the washer and come in from that side.

Now, if you have ever moved your laundry pair, you know what I encountered. Five years we've lived in this home. I've moved them out once to clean. It was as bad as I remembered. So THAT's where the red sock went!

Got the shop vac. You can pick up anything with a shop vac. Even bottles of shoe polish, I come to find out. Thankfully, it didn't make it into the vac hose. And the old dryer sheet plugged the hose just before the tank, so I could remove it cleanly and restore suction.

Perfectionism is that voice that says, "Now that you've got it all pulled apart, give it a good washing back there!" After all, so many of my friends notice and judge me by the condition of the floor underneath my washer and dryer.

But clean I did. I even unscrewed the back panel off the dryer to vacuum inside where the motor sits. I wiped down the hoses and cords, I vacuumed and washed the floor, I cut my thumb reaching into places no hands were meant to go. And just as I was about to push the dryer back, I realized.... I need to check the vent. It was relatively clean, not blocked at all.

So I did not solve the mystery, but I had a good workout and now there's no need to take that trip to the Y.

God breezes

Sometimes the Bible has described the moving of the Spirit like a rushing wind. Sometimes I find it's a gentle breeze.

Like being given the clarity in understanding that the real offense was not my own child's hurt feelings, it was the boorish adult who shouldn't have been in the dressing room in the first place. This I can take to the coach - and did. And the coach can deal with it. Problem handled.

Clarity in getting to the core issue in a troublesome problem involves setting aside my own blinding passions. God helps me see the bigger picture. It wasn't just my child, it could have been any number of kids affected by the comments of the stray adult. As they say, it's sometimes hard to see the forest for the trees, so always taking it to God first will help to ensure I get His perspective instead of wallowing in my short sightedness.

Sometimes you need a microscope, sometimes you need a wide angle lens.

Now where did I put that joy?

How easy it is to lose sight of joy when we hit those big pot holes in the journey.

Like when a boorish adult intentionally tries to hurt your son's feelings. Hockey is a contact sport, after all, and there aren't any penalties for emotional cross-checking.

I, like Mary, "ponder these things" in my heart. So the pondering has led to insomnia. Insomnia led to composing a page long complaint to the proper authorities.

"God, give me wisdom," I pray. And God says: "Make it your aim to live a quiet life, mind your own business...." Wait, my son's feelings ARE my business.

"Love your enemies. Pray for them." (Mt. 5:43)

Will I report the bully to the authorities? I don't know yet. Stay tuned.

Joy redefined

I'm much more creative when my energy isn't being totally spent on non-creative things like the necessity of work. The blog is a venting place, a diary, could be completely uncreative compared to others, I just like to talk and give my opinion, truth be known!

Life is so much about the journey. I never want to lose sight of the destination, because that is the purpose of the journey, but I can't expect heaven on earth.

Had a great lightbulb moment last night based on someone else's sharing in the service... She said she used to pray for joy and strength because "the joy of the Lord is your strength" right? Well, it finally hit her that the joy being referred to is His joy, not ours. It is the joy we bring to God's heart when we willingly do what He has put us here to do. Our strength comes from knowing that what we are doing, with His glory in mind, brings Him joy. So when I grumble and complain about my mundane tasks, housecleaning or the drivers on Deerfoot, we grieve the Spirit and live a powerless life. Instead, when I bless someone, like saying a kind word to the cashier in training after waiting in line for 20 minutes, that choice brings joy to the Father and reflects His heart for people.

I am managing A's hockey team and the coach has already asked me to do far more than I expected. So I have a choice. Complain or do it knowing that a willing heart brings joy to God and opens up opportunity for connecting others to Him when they see our good works and glorify our Father in heaven.

How Embarrassing

I went to view my blog on the net and my internet filtering restricted it as an adult site. I had to laugh, and I'm not really embarrassed, because I know my site was clean when I finished with it. Unless somehow my internet filter can measure whining. I am trying to move away from whining as a hobby and take responsibility for changing what I can. Even saying "I don't have time" is a whine. More rant about that another time.

To the few friends I've told about this site: I hope you like staying in touch. If you read, take a minute to comment so I know you've stopped by! Sending messages out into the great wide cosmos, one likes an echo on occasion.

Better yet, send me an email and catch me up on your life. Five sentences. That's all I ask. You can tell me volumes in five sentences.

In the middle of the night

A quiet life can sometimes only be found once the two other people in my house are asleep.

In the several hours I've been on the computer, I have paid my credit card, read my email, listened to my itunes, sorted my printed sheet music (huge stack), renewed a library book, printed an insurance claim, written a couple people and investigated Kanakuk Kamps in Missouri near where I grew up.

Perhaps my son shall have an adventure there next year while I galavant the globe with dear hubby on our 25th year together.

In the meantime, I need my sleep and have a nagging cough that is starting to be a problem.

The New NHL

My evening was emmersed in all things Hockey at the Dome of the Red. 25th Anniversary Year for the Calgary Flames.

Home opener. Lost in overtime 3-2. Son is mad. I tried to look on the bright side. "At least it was exciting!" Lombardi was on fire. I want his number on my souvenir jersey.

Highlights: We received a replica of the banner they raised to the rafters: "Calgary Flames 2003-2004 Western Conference Champions." We were treated to a transcendent opening ceremony which made me realize how much emotion music can evoke when properly applied.

As we left, the NHL gave everyone a replica of the Stanley Cup. It is a duplicate of the one A got at Macdonalds 2 years ago with a happy meal. Kinda felt like getting our noses rubbed in it since the Flames just barely missed out on the cup 2003-04. "Glad you fans came back to help the owners make millions of dollars! Here's a $2 token of our thanks from China." I guess the NHL really hasn't changed that much after all.

Underneath the jaded exterior, the girl in me was jumping with joy that I got to go with A to the game. B was sick.

The Band Camp that wasn't

It’s not mandatory. Three days and 2 nights away from school for band rehearsals and “bonding” time. Lots of fun. Expensive. Level of supervision unknown. Misses guitar lessons, misses one ice time, has to get missed class work and assignments for 21 class periods.

“Am I an overprotective mother for not letting him go?”

“Probably” husband replies, “but I agree.”

“I am okay if you don’t think I should go” son says.

I analyze. Past behavior is an accurate predictor of future behavior:

He always comes home sick from retreats and camps.
Late lights out mean less sleep and less sleep means less self control.
Missed classes = missed information and missed assignments = lower grades.
He hasn’t been using his agenda as requested to track his assignments.
Too much to keep track of means some things get forgotten. Consequences vary.
Lack of supervision among 13 & 14 year olds mean foolish things happen.

On the other hand, he’d have fun. He’d do some bonding. He might even learn the music a little sooner. I pray for wisdom. I read Proverbs.

The cons outweigh the pros. I say son doesn’t go.

But then on the way to school: “The only reason I signed up for band was for the extra stuff.”

I quietly cry. No Kleenex. Son hears my sniffles, takes my hand and holds it until we get to school. I could tell him everything I feel but I don’t know if it would make any difference. Nothing more is said.

Why is it so hard to say no? I love him totally and I only want to do what is best for him. How hard it is to be a parent of an only child. The Perfectionist whispers: “Only one chance to get it right. You could screw him up royally if you get it wrong.” Wisdom whispers: “Trust in the Lord. Don’t trust your own understanding.”

I didn’t cave.

Multi Tasking

Tuesday
Take son to school
Practice for singing at weekly women's morning
Sing
Lead small group
Practice for next week
Grab takeout lunch
Go home, sit down to eat lunch and watch one hour of tv
Fall asleep for 45 minutes
and wake up just in time for picking up son at school
Go to health clinic for test
shop for guitar stand
Make supper
Check email and talk to coach about managing son's hockey team
Son's guitar lesson cancelled (thankfully for today)
Take phone call when I should have walked out the door
Barely on time for couples' small group
Left PDA behind
home to check email and blog while watching amazing race.
realize there is still no meat for sandwiches tomorrow. Ah. Boiled eggs for egg salad!

Tomorrow I focus on home.
Not poetic but it was a good day.

Realized how God is always making things work into a pattern for good whether we notice or not but how much more interesting it is when I notice.

I could live quiet if everyone else wasn't honking

We rushed up to Edmonton for the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. I say "rushed" because any drive with my husband behind the wheel is faster than I would prefer. And being a holiday weekend, the road was very busy.

I won't rant right now about the testosterone laden Dodge Ram drivers, I'm saving that for a special posting.... but suffice it to say, at least two along the road exhibited the same Hurried Hemi gottagetinfrontofyourightnow attitude of all the other Rabid Rammers I've encountered.

We had a semi-quiet weekend, visited a big church, ate roast beef and Swiss Chalet because MIL is cleaning out cupboards for winter migration and couldn't face making a turkey. I didn't miss it too badly but I think when they come through next weekend, I'll make one so we can all enjoy it.

The afternoon was beautiful when we got home today. We mowed the lawn for the last time and I cleared the leaves and foilage so that spring will be "clutter free." The influence of Flylady.net is even reaching my garden.

Pretty average weekend. Nothing huge. Nothing small.

Oh, there was that purchase of new goalie pads at United Cycle. And the breakdown of the 12 year old who realized that a new electric guitar is not going to just magically appear out of Mom and Dad's ATM without some proportional investment from the bank account he holds. He just HAD to have Madden 2006. As he was choosing it, I reminded him that I wouldn't be buying the guitar without his contribution and the more he spends now, the longer it will take for him to save his portion toward the guitar.

As we discussed this, he experienced that great lesson of realizing we can't have our cake and eat it too. We can't buy all we want and get Mom and Dad to buy the rest. And while having a job would help speed things along, he can't have a job and play too. With guitar lessons, hockey, saxophone practice, drama, youth group and school (oh, yeah, that should be first on the list), a job just isn't in the picture. I had to pull the car over in a quiet place to let him get over the emotional impact of this tragic realization. I also realized I hadn't put enough parameters around the bank account we'd started for him, nor did we clearly define what we would consider about purchasing a new electric guitar. Since we gave him a decent accoustic guitar for his last birthday, I determined that I would not okay the purchase of an electric guitar until he had completed a year of lessons on the accoustic. In addition, he will need to research what kind of guitar he wants, establish the price it is likely to be and save so that he can contribute 50% of the cost. Even if he has the money before the year is up, he must wait the entire year. If the year is up before he has his portion, he must wait until he has it.

What a hard lesson for a little guy. And mom wishes neither of us would ever have to cry. Reality is tough sometimes.

Live a Quiet Life

"Make it your aim to live a quiet life, mind your own business, working with your hands." I Thes. 4:11

My goal for the new life I'm shaping by not working - rather - by not being employed to work on priorities of others instead of my own.

There's a freedom in knowing that if you just keep going, eventually you will get to the end. Of the task. Of the pile. Of the plowed field. Of the road. The last dish. The last clean socks paired and put away.

Along the journey, since I've begun following my own to-do list, I've made space by unloading some baggage. Gifts to Sally Ann and Citidump. Hand-me-downs to appreciative friends. Donations to shelter and camp.

It was a treasure trove. I found the preschool and ECS class photos I'd given up for lost. The grade one report card. The original large birth certificate for my only son. Years of love wrapped up in misspelled mother's day cards. Priceless items buried under mounds of "I thought it was important at the time" and "I'll sort through that tomorrow."

Who'da thunk that insomnia could have such side effects? Trade sleeplessness for decluttering and voila! I'm memories richers and boxes lighter.

Thanks to S for sharing her blog and giving me a place to vent, rant and politely pontificate.