Book Review: It's a God Thing!

Inside the front cover of my copy of It's a God Thing!, I found a notation stating I won this book at the 2001 Write-to-Publish Conference. I know I read the book back then. Still on my bookshelf, I picked it up again to supplement my daily devotional reading. What an inspiring book for anyone who wishes to spread the fragrance of the knowledge of Christ! (2 Cor. 2:14) That sounds like Larry Baker's theme verse.

I started to explain that Larry runs a salon and cuts hair in Fort Collins, Colorado. Then, I decided to Google him. Oh, my! What sad news! Last June, Larry went missing and his body was found in Watson Lake. I found a You Tube video of a news clip highlighting how dear and personable Larry had been. How wonderful that his message still resonates through his book, It's a God Thing!: Inspiring Stories of Life-Changing Friendships.

Larry used his fun and friendly personality to woo and win others to Christ. He greeted others and became a true friend to them. He did not immediately pressure them by sharing the gospel, but waited until they asked him the source of his joy and peace. Even then, he walked gently into the question, offering to give them only as much explanation as they wanted. The stories Larry shares in his book prove that being a friend is the thing of first importance. Whether connecting with addicts or jet-setters, Larry offered a hand of friendship and a heart for God. Without building a bridge, you cannot meet on the same side. I really enjoyed this book and recommend it to anyone wanting inspiration for forming relationships that effectively change lives through the knowledge of Christ.

Book Review: Happy & Sad & Everything True

Sometimes I settle for a middle grade book out of sheer frustration over the content in women's fiction. I have recently read and tossed aside 3 or 4 books. In two different books, I waded through 4 or 5 CDs (1/2 the book) before coming upon content I just couldn't tolerate. So discouraging! Indeed, for our December book club meeting, we had a book exchange. I received a psychological thriller from a popular author. In seeking an audio book for my car trips, I selected one of her other books as an introductory sample. With that one, I overlooked smut until half-way through, when I just couldn't take it anymore. 

Thus, on the next trip to the library, I selected Happy & Sad & Everything True by Alex Thayer. Slated for readers 10 and up, it straddles the age brackets of children's and tween. The main character is in the 6th grade, but includes characters who are in 2nd. I appreciated a clean book for a change.

Dee is sure her mother doesn't understand. She expresses her devastation at being placed in a class apart from her best friend Juniper. Her mother says it will give her the opportunity to make new friends. But watching a best friend detach from you is never easy. As she hides out in the school bathroom, she discovers she is not the only one with problems. As she helps others, she heals her own wounds simultaneously.

Thayer has presented, as the title describes, a range of emotions that children face, and presented them with honesty. The reader cannot help but feel for Dee as she endures mortification, confusion, frustration, and hope. She is an empathetic character who draws empathy from the reader. This would make a good read-aloud, but I would steer it toward 4th or 5th graders.

As for the gifted book, I cannot decide if I will wade through possible cautionary content or not (easier when it is a physical book and you can skip a page). I'm not against psychological thrillers, and this author has quite a following. I just prefer not to get bogged down in sexual promiscuity with graphic details. So sad! It has become harder and harder to find clean women's fiction. Perhaps I will have to stick with Christian fiction and miss out on reading skilled writers who cannot write without bludgeoning the reader with language, filth, and smut.

Book Review: Safe People

I struggle with boundaries. I run from conflict. To be honest, I'd rather pacify you with inauthenticity than confront difficulties I'm experiencing in relationship. This is something I need to work on. Ages ago, I read the Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend book on Boundaries. I have obviously allowed that wisdom to slip from my practice. In Safe People, this duo offers insight into the process of finding and engaging in relationships with safe people.

Safe People is a well-structured and easily followed book. The authors break down the problem. To begin with, they outline 20 traits of "unsafe" people. I must admit, some of those traits I see in the mirror. They discuss why we get into enmeshed relationships with unsafe people. Then, they provide encouragement and steps for establishing safer relationships in life. My opinion? This is all fine and dandy, but implementing, when you struggle with boundaries, is far harder than reading a book with tips and target behaviors. I'd love to find safe people. But, then again, I need to learn how to be a safe person myself first. Perhaps I would do well to seek the study guide for this book, or at least listen to the full-length version (my audio book was abridged).

Celebrating Old Friends and New

When you have good news and few to share it with, you realize how isolated you have become. My first book of poetry, Watching the Wayward: Psalms for Parents of Prodigals, finally released in paperback form on Amazon on June 7th. It has reminded me of the value of friendship. I was hesitant to return to my writer's group to share the news of my book because I had not attended since the pandemic shut things down. It felt wrong to attend now that I have good news to share, but then... if I didn't share it there with like-minded individuals who would celebrate with me, where else could I share? 

My heart is full because one individual bought the book to place in our local library and another wrote a kind review on the Amazon page. In the days leading up to the launch, I promoted the book on Facebook, but since I have less than 400 friends, my net is small. Still, I cannot express how grateful I am for those who posted photos of my book, with links, saying "Look! I got Wendy Gorton Hill's new book." Each extra bit of publicity helps and I appreciate every share.

But, in all of this, I think my deepest blessing is in the connections I am making with other parents on a similar walk to mine. Several of my friends wrote to say, "This book came just at the right time because we're struggling with a wayward child." Now, I'm also receiving words from individuals I don't even know who friend me on Facebook, and when I ask the connection, they reply they are reading my book. How cool is that? Besides gratitude, it opens up a chance for me to extend my prayer list to dozens of names of parents with prodigals. I now keep a running prayer list.

One such person, a pastor's wife, contacted me recently to share her story. Her daughter, sent on a mission, returned home confused and depressed. The daughter rejected her faith and headed down a wayward path, taking the son along in solidarity. These stories break my heart. The world is full of parents grieving harmful choices of rebelling children. They ache for restoration. This mother spoke of missing the fellowship she once shared with her daughter, discussing spiritual growth. She likened it to a "miscarriage." She was bringing her child into God's kingdom, and then the path abruptly stopped with progress aborted.

I will forever be grateful for all the parents who express how the book has blessed them and reminded them that God is watching while they're waiting for their child's return to the fold. It validates my decision to do what was necessary to make the book available. My joy is also full because of renewed friendships. One college roommate, Anne, reconnected and even came for a weekend visit. 

What fun we had reminiscing about those youthful days. We commiserated over shared struggles and anxieties. We took a day trip down to Nashville, Indiana and walked the streets filled with quaint shops. Chatting on the back porch, we caught each other up on years spent apart. Once again, I say, if this book nets nothing else, it is growing my prayer list, reinvigorating old friendships, introducing new ones, and providing connection where my spokes had broken (like this old post from 2011).  

Book Blurb: Winter is Scissors

Reading my friend Kyle's newest book in January prompted a search for my review of his 2018 book. Alas, I failed to write a review when I read it after purchasing the Kindle version back in 2018. I re-read the book this past January. Winter is Scissors: A Winter Companion provides "thirty-one small, daily readings... extending the metaphor that winter cuts." With 31 entries, it is a perfect fit for January reading, but you could just as well tackle it in March.

I had several favorite entries: On day 6 - Epiphany - White asserts that, like the wise men, he has received the message to cut an alternative path for home. On day 8, he humorously personifies weather and our relationship to it in "The Scandalous Truth About You and Cold Weather." Of course, I appreciated day 19, "Winter is for Writing." On day 20, he compares shoveling and shaving. While I'm not a big fan of winter (my sister and her husband, who live in Texas, pine for winter and snow as much as Kyle does), these poetic readings warmed my heart and gave meaning to the chill outside.

Book Review: Freezing and Thawing

Last year, one of my favorite Christmas gifts from my husband was my blogging friend Maria Novajosky's new book, An Ocean, an Airplane, and Two Countries Full of Kisses. This year, my husband snagged the newest book from my writer friend Kyle L. White (from my old writer's group in Illinois), Freezing and Thawing: New and Revised Stories from the Midwest. Not only that, he bought my favorite print from his on-line store. I propped it up in my bookish desk alongside another gem he found - a small motivational decoration that reads "Write Your Own Story."

Freezing and Thawing - What an adventure! Old familiar paths (circus museum, my favorite) branch off into invigorating new terrain (an essay comparing writing to hunting). As always, before you realize it, casual observation slips into deeper territory. From the comedy of an in-house haircut (thank you, pandemic) illustrating our need to care for one another, to removal of a fish hook prompting reflections on God's touch in our wounds. White's words trigger contemplation and conviction. They induce self-assessment. They remind of God's grace. What rises to the surface is the most important question of all: Am I living and loving as I should?

Mourning Loss of CBLI 2020

Today would have been the start of our annual Bible camp, Central Bible and Leadership Institute - CBLI. Neither of my younger boys intended to go along anyway, but I had hopes of going solo for the first time since my teen years. I even contacted an old friend who provides a great deal of care for her grandsons. I pitched the idea that we share a Shagbark cabin together and I could have the counselor's room for privacy, yet be there to help her with the kids. I had visions of such fun because this is a cherished old friend whom I hardly ever see and love to spend time with.

Enter COVID-19. Exit dreams of CBLI-20. 😢

So, I came up with a plan to celebrate CBLI in my own way this year. I cannot benefit from the outstanding Bible classes. But, I can make a point to focus on my own Bible study. Since there are nine days to CBLI, I selected the one book of the Bible with nine chapters - Amos. I don't know how it will go, but I'll give it my best.

My Bible introduction to the book states:

"Amos prophesies during a period of national optimism in Israel. Business is booming and boundaries are bulging. But below the surface, greed and injustice are festering. Hypocritical religious motions have replaced true worship, creating a false sense of security and a growing callousness to God's disciplining hand. Famine, drought, plagues, death, destruction--nothing can force the people to their knees. Amos, the farmer-turned-prophet, lashes out at sin unflinchingly, trying to visualize the nearness of God's judgment and mobilize the nation to repentance. The nation, like a basket of rotting fruit, stands ripe for judgment because of its hypocrisy and spiritual indifference."

My, my. Timely!

Secondly, I decided to write nine letters (a letter each day) to individuals who have blessed me during my CBLI years and to make a point to pray specifically for them on that designated day:

1) I will start with Laura Allen, whose friendship and constant presence at CBLI have been like returning to a warm hug. She provided me with tons of camping tips (things she learned in her years of CBLI and CMI attendance - I think she's probably stayed in every cabin on the campgrounds - including Navajo, to which she wrote "NAVA-NO!!" when she spent the week there with mice - that cabin has since been condemned and torn down - yikes). I always look forward to our annual selfie and since she is a far better photographer, I often steal some of her images for my CBLI Re-cap posts. I have known Laura since my parents moved to an appointment in Chicago my freshman year of high school and am so grateful that our friendship endures and that she is always at CBLI, as well.

2) I could not miss thanking Linda Himes for being a Bible teacher extraordinaire! Over the years she nurtured my return to the importance of time in God's Word. I have such fond memories of all the deep learning in her classes on Ruth, covenant, and the tabernacle (those are the three that stand out the most - but I took other ones, as well). She always takes time to talk to me outside of class and has been a true blessing in my life, spurring me on to depth of Biblical study.

3) Many different individuals have led the worship times at camp over the years. When I think back to my first years of bringing Bryce to CBLI, I reveled in the worship leadership of Randy Bonifield. I can still remember standing with his wife, another Wendy, remarking on how odd it was to watch all the teens and remember that we were in that teen track over a decade before. And I will never forget the experience of one particular worship song Randy led (I believe it was a song called "I Went to the Enemy's Camp"). The teens went absolutely crazy during the chorus where they would chant of the devil, "He's under my feet!" and jump around in their rare teenage enthusiasm. Us oldsters (we were what? 35?) sat in the back and sucked it all in.

4) Another blessed memory, both with Bryce and from the years when my younger sons were small - fishing on the pier with Todd Thielke. He was so kind to take time for us (first helping Bryce to catch fish, then in later years, watching over Trevor and Sean in their enthusiasm for fishing). He took a photo of Bryce's largest fish title catch, but sadly, we couldn't seem to get it from his phone to send to me (probably because we had such archaic phones back then). I remember it was a whopper! Todd's kindness to my boys and enthusiasm for fishing will always be linked with our CBLI experiences.

5) There have been a few couples whose regular attendance at the camp always blesses me. Cheryl and Tom Westberg come to mind. Cheryl had a light bulb idea one year. Since she works in the book industry, she decided to set up a  Little Free Library at camp. For several years, she would load up tons of books to display on shelves and tables, free for the taking for campers to read during their free time and even to take home with them. You can imagine how much that thrilled me! She was also the mastermind behind several mom's day out trips into the nearby town of Antioch. I am so grateful to her husband Tom for keeping my boys so that I could participate in those adventures. We would go to the ice cream shop, the candy shop, and often a thrift store, too. It felt great to be included in that group.

6) Another regular couple at CBLI - David and Dawn Tooley (Dawn is one of the women in this ladies day out photo - This also makes me smile because Louise Rowland is in the photo and her friendship was very dear that year). I always appreciate their friendship, but I also benefited from several of David's classes. I think my favorite two were the ones he taught on John Ortberg's The Me I Want to Be and Donald Miller's book, Storyline.

7) In recent years, I've been blessed by the song leadership of Eric Himes and The Singing Company (for a few years, my niece, Kirsten, was a member of the group). He instituted something called Evening Hymn Sing. Individuals would go to the front to share a brief testimony and then select a hymn or chorus from a laundry line of possible titles and we would join in corporate worship together. I don't often get the chance to experience intense corporate worship like I experience at CBLI. The swell of voices communicating praise to God brings me right to His throne. I have several favorites, too many probably to mention. I even used one to prompt a focus phrase one year - "Let Nothing Be Wasted." He is an outstanding songwriter and worship leader.

8) Carol Wurtz has been such a good friend to me during the years of her leadership at CBLI. She made it possible for the boys and I to continue coming to CBLI even after we stopped attending The Salvation Army on a regular basis. She always asks after me, talks to my boys, and prays with me when things are stressing me out (like one dreadful night last year when the troubles with my prodigal son were first appearing). We owe a great debt of gratitude to her.

9) Way back when we first attended CBLI, Bryce and I always knew we would get to spend time with Carol Hedgren and her girls (close to Bryce's age) and Christy Mantel and her kids (her youngest daughter was Bryce's age). We hung with them during the mid-week trips to Great America, took classes together, and spent free time sharing in the same activities (down at the waterfront, rocking the Funbugs - triangular boards you stand on and move across the water with your body movements - this is a photo of Carol's daughter, Jordan, who recently got married - ah, time flies). Many happy memories. Sadly, they stopped attending so it has been years since we were able to hang out together.

Third, I plan to focus on one worship song/prayer chorus with sentimental meaning on each day. These are songs I remember singing at CBLI. The links to the YouTube versions don't always communicate the same vigor we sung them with, but give you a taste of each tune:

1) "I Went to the Enemy's Camp" (this version is not nearly as energetic as Randy Bonifield's)

2) "Let Nothing Be Wasted" - original by The Singing Company

3) "These Are the Days of Elijah" - my boys begged to listen to this after we returned from camp one year - I love the part where everyone chants "There's no God like Jehovah"

4) "Never Mind, Go On" - another Singing Company song

5) "10,000 Reasons" - This was another favorite often requested by the boys

6) "Be Thou My Vision"

7) "Shine, Jesus, Shine"

8) "In Christ Alone" - this version is sung by Owl City - I love his voice!

9) "No More, No More!" - another Singing Company song

So, as I mourn the loss of my beloved Bible camp experience this year, I will celebrate all the memories and carve out a special observance of my own. I will study the Word, express gratitude, pray, and sing praise. It won't be the same, but perhaps it will in some small way dull the pain.

Gilmore Girls' Night Out

What a treat! My CBLI friend, Brenna Lee, posted an invitation to join her for a Gilmore Girls trivia night competition at the Stacked Pickle. Despite Bryce coming into town that night for the weekend, I jumped at the chance. There were four of us, two CBLI friends and one music camp friend. We gave ourselves a team name of "Oy, with the poodles already!" How fun to sit with other Gilmore Girls fans and attempt to answer the often obscure questions about the show (we truly puzzled over things like "name the item Luke purchased at the town garage sale" and "what fake names did Rory and Lorelei use while wandering Harvard?") I can't say I was a tremendous help to our team, but I did carry us through a few questions and confirmed several suggestions by the others.

We can't complain - out of roughly seven or eight teams, we took second place and won a gift certificate for $15 - inspiration enough to make us venture out together again (although, since I watch few shows, I doubt I'd be able to help any other categories or themes).

Still, if you're looking for a fun girls' night out activity, I highly recommend the trivia nights at the Stacked Pickle (their themes are things like Disney, Star Wars, Marvel, Harry Potter, The Office, Parks and Recreation, etc.). It is pure fun - no pressure in front of others or anything. We sat at a table, with a stack of note cards and simply wrote out the answers to the questions as they were read, turning them in after every five questions for a point tally. Even if we hadn't placed, it still would have been a fun night.

Book Review: I'd Rather Be Reading

Blogging is like attending a special art party, where all the people in the room connect through their love of a particular artist. When you find the blogging niche you most enjoy, you can often find other bloggers who share your passions. I love the friendships I've made through blogging. I can think of a slew of women I don't actually know, yet they feel like true friends because their blogging interests provide a sense of kinship. Through blogging I met Catherine of A Spirited Mind and joined her in-real-life book club. I made friends with other mothers raising sons, like Lucy, who blogs at Life is a Spasm Who Flow (you must check out her blog to make sense of that title) and Amy, who blogs at The English Geek. I think it was through Catherine that I discovered Sheila of The Deliberate Reader, and through Sheila, I heard of Modern Mrs. Darcy (although, I can't say I've been a regular visitor there).

I'm sure when I requested I'd Rather Be Reading: The Delights and Dilemmas of the Reading Life from my library, I had no clue about the author, Anne Bogel. But when I sat down to read the book, I was delighted to see it was written by the creator of Modern Mrs. Darcy. Although we are a fair space removed (kind of like that parlor game, Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon), I wanted to claim her as a blogging friend, as well. Indeed, she speaks of just such a sentiment in her book, when she created a bookshelf specifically for friends who've written books and extended the category to authors she'd like to have as friends.

The book is sure to delight any bibliophile as she outlines the common maladies we face (like all our holds coming in at the library at the same time) and the shared euphoria we feel (being first in line for a long-awaited sequel in a series). I loved the size and shape of the book (perfect for gifting), along with the bookshelves adorning the cover. I loved the name-dropping of titles (most I could relate to; several I may have to add to my own endless to-be-read list). If reading is your thing, join Modern Mrs. Darcy in contemplating what makes reading so special.

New Small Group

After growing weary of the half hour commute to participate in the Threshold Singers, I began to hope I could find something a bit closer to home. I decided to join a small group of women from my Salvation Army corps. They meet once a month, in members' homes and share a meal and some fellowship (with a time of serious discussion). I had such a good time at the July meeting that I offered up my house to be the location for our August meeting.

The day was miserable. Wet and stormy. Indeed, there were tornadoes whipping through the county while the women were attempting to make their way to my house. Bryce left to go to his friend's house and almost ran straight into a tornado. He said he came to a clear area near the soccer fields, not more than a mile from our house, and saw a huge cloud swirling debris. He told us later that he did a u-turn right there in the road and sped away. Here are some photos one woman snapped while on the way to my house:

A tornado touched down and did damage to a neighborhood a little over a mile away from us. Thankfully, all the women made it to my house safely and we had a wonderful time around our big table. We were able to fit all 14 of us around it!

After the meal (following a breakfast-for-dinner theme), we retired to our back porch and had our discussion time. I think everyone had a great time and really enjoyed sharing our little bit of space here.

When Friendship Potential Turns to Dust

My situation is unusual. I have lived in this small farming community for 9 years and have yet to make a true close friend. I try not to write about it because, really, who wants to read about something so depressing as loneliness? Moreover, who wants to admit to being the one person that others seem to shun rather than seek out? If I were a desperately shy, introvert, it might be understandable going almost a decade without establishing a friendship base. But, I'm not a shy introvert. If anything, I love to be with people and love to talk.

I can analyze it and see some of the reasons for the paucity of friendship material. For one, I do not work. I have no access to workplace camaraderie. Besides, we do not have a solid church home. I attend The Salvation Army on a sporadic basis, but even if I went there every Sunday, there are really few women there who fit a potential friend profile (similar age, similar mothering situation, similar interests, similar beliefs, etc.). The one woman who best fits that potential friend profile is an officer and is, therefore, simply too busy to pursue a deeper friendship than the cursory Sunday greeting.

We attended another church for a solid four or five month period, but no friendships developed there either. I inquired about information on their preschool program, enrolled my children, attempted to strike up conversations with other mothers ... all to no avail. Eventually, we shifted into sporadic attendance and then stopped attending that church altogether. So the two most common places to strike up friendships, work and church, are ineffectual for me.

Often, the problem in attempting to make friends with the mothers of my children stems either from an age difference or differences in parenting philosophies. Sometimes, it even comes down to bad timing and unfortunate circumstances. Friendships with the mothers of my oldest, who might be closer in age to me, since I had him at the reasonable age of 30, have always fizzled into nothingness. It isn't like I fail to make an effort. I invited one (who, while ten years younger than me, had children with the same age span) to attend the theater with me. Unfortunate events (drug use) led to the demise of that potential friendship. Another mother of my eldest son failed to pick my son and her son up when they were in a bad part of Indianapolis late at night with car trouble (we were out of town) because she was in a fight with her son. Somehow that makes friendly feelings dissolve. I have yet to establish a friendship with one of the parents of my oldest son.

Often the mothers of my younger two are simply distant in age (since I had them at 39 and 41). But sometimes, they have failed for unknown reasons. My middle son enjoyed a brief friendship with a delightful young boy. I really liked the boy's mother. She worked in the education field (my background) and was outgoing and friendly. Then, my son attended a sleepover at their house and their friendship dwindled into nothing. I peppered my son with questions: did you break something? did you bother the parents by staying up too late? - all possible scenarios. Needless to say, with their friendship gone, I have not had any further contact with the mother.

Lately, I am grieving the friendship scenario for my youngest. He was desperate to invite over one of his favorite friends at school, so I called to make the invitation and heard nothing back for days. I called to repeat the request and when I did so, I made a fatal error. I was new to my phone and didn't realize that clicking off at the base button only popped the call into a separate window without shutting down the call. Therefore, when Sean yelled from the other room his dissatisfaction with not knowing the results, I replied "We can't make them call us back, Sean." A few seconds later, I realized that those words went into the message I had just left with the mother because the call was still going. Great! They did get together, but - not surprising - haven't had any further contact. And Sean really likes this boy.

So, we recently accepted the invitation from another of Sean's friends, whose mother is a spunky, friendly woman. He had a wonderful time at their house and we wished to reciprocate. The mother expressed concern that I not allow the boys to play any violent video games. I assured her that we would stick with rated E games on the X-box 360, even though my sons are allowed to play some games with more mature ratings. I swear, without hovering, I kept a close eye on them. But, when the mother arrived to pick up her son, he exclaimed that he had killed people off with diarrhea and insanity (they had played a virus-spread game on the I-pad - no violent shooting, but still ... it did come out as "killing" and I saw a flash of concern cross her face). Now, I am worried that we have, once again burned our bridges (what's more, Sean feels like it was his fault because he introduced the game thinking it was okay).

I am sad for my sons, who lose out on the benefits of close friendships, but I am equally sad for the loss of potential friendship for myself. My husband says that I over-analyze these things (and I probably do - I spent several hours reviewing everything I had said to the mother and critiqued every area that could have raised eyebrows or alerted the inevitable shun-factor). While he, too, feels the pain of my lack of friends, he tends to take a laid-back approach (the boys can still be friends at school even if they don't get together in the off-hours). I feel everything more acutely.

I don't know what the answer is. Perhaps we should be making a more concerted effort to find a church home. I do want my boys to be in a solid youth group when they reach those troublesome years of adolescence. Perhaps I should seek out even a part-time job. I don't want to abandon my writing goals by seeking full-time work just to provide an environment where friendship can grow more naturally. I suppose I can only keep reaching out and praying for some alignment in the heavens to bring along a person I can relate to and comfortably converse with.

In the meantime, I cling to the words of Paula Rinehart in her book, Better Than My Dreams:

"There is a quiet release in my spirit ... when I realize that often, my dreams really are not God's dreams. What does not happen was not meant to take place. My failure - or someone else's failure - didn't catch God by surprise, like it slipped under the wire when he wasn't looking."

The might-have-beens could rob me of my peace and joy. I must fight against that. I must surrender again, believing that if God intends a friendship to grow, He will provide it and nurture it and yield whatever He wishes from it. For now, my isolation and loneliness, must be within His plan. I will scoop up the dust and give it back to Him. He has a purpose. My goal is to yield to that purpose and use the pain to fuel a deeper empathy for those who struggle with loneliness.

Blessed by Someone Unafraid to Use Her Gifts

There's a message God has been hammering into my brain a lot lately. Sadly, my persistent self-doubts require plenty of hammering action. It is that thought that when I sit back in fear, I am hoarding gifts that God intends to be used for blessing. This morning, I want to recognize someone who clearly taps into her God-given gifts and has blessed me in the process.

Kori was my nurse during my hospital stay after delivering Trevor via c-section. It was certainly my hardest post-surgery recovery out of my 3 c-sections. Although Trevor's birth was the only one that left me deliriously happy (I suffered from post-partum depression with both of the other two boys), it was by far the most painful. The surgery left me with a large quantity of trapped air. Kori, who happened to be a member of my church at that time, but one I had not really met prior to this hospital stay, comforted me and walked the halls with me as I attempted to lessen the painful spasms in my gut.

Kori's spirit shone. She was a smiley, positive presence in my life during those short days and after. She often popped into the church nursery to ask how I was doing. This meant so much to me. Even after our move from DeKalb to this isolated community in Indiana, Kori reached out, inviting me back to DeKalb for my old churh's annual women's retreats. I am grateful to God for the blessing she has been in my life.

Kori somehow manages to produce not one, but three blogs! She recently shared her gifts with the world when she entered The Pioneer Woman's photography contest. Her photo was selected as the winner. It brought back those memories for me of her influence on my life during the first few days of my middle son's entrance into the world.



Cogratulations, Kori! Thanks so much for shining in my world!

The Blogging See-Saw

When I first discovered blogging, it was through a friend who blogged about her experience in a missionary situation. I thoroughly enjoying reading about what was going on in her life and her ministry. I could fully understand the purpose of a blog for her. And, although I longed to write a blog myself, I figured people really wouldn't be interested in my daily life.

However, in the throes of mothering very small children, I discovered more blogs. Suddenly, I realized that there were loads of other women who were in the very same situation as myself and they wrote interesting blog posts about their daily life. If I considered their blogs interesting, wouldn't it be possible to write my own blog and fill it with interesting posts?

Thus, I narrowed the topics I wished to cover, came up with a suitable title and began blogging. In the beginning, it was my salvation. It literally kept me sane by filling my evenings with purpose and expression when my days were filled with mundane child-rearing and housekeeping.

As time went on, I began to notice certain trends. People tend to blog with great vigor in the beginning. However, with time the frequency tapers off, sometimes disappearing altogether. I also noticed bloggers complaining about blogging. They would say, "blogging has become a chore."

Now, I find myself riding the blogging see-saw. I, too, often find myself quite weary in the evening and feel torn between the obligation to blog and the desire to remain silent. Often my silences are driven by my moods. I struggle with clinical depression and it impacts every aspect of my life (my relationship with my husband and children, my ability to function in the roles laid out for me, my enthusiasm - or lack - for personal goals, and my desire to openly express things about my life).

Frankly, I feel that if I were to freely express the thoughts and feelings that swirl around inside, it would be far too weighty (and scary) for most people to deal with. It would send my parents (who actually do read this blog) into intense concern mode. Moreover, it would only serve to depress the few readers I actually have.

When I think about what was initially so appealing about blogs, it was the fact that I felt a sense of camaraderie with other people. Reading blogs made my struggles seem ordinary and if someone else could endure, then so could I. I turned to virtual friendships because my life hasn't offered up this opportunity much lately.

This is something that continually perplexes me - how an outgoing, friendly individual can live for 3 and a half years in a location and not make a single meaningful friendship. I am tempted to blame the location more than the individual. I have offered to volunteer my time both at the local grade school and at a nearby nursing home. I cannot imagine schools and nursing homes not welcoming volunteer help when offered and yet neither even bothered to respond to my e-mails or calls????

Recently, I discovered that a friend, Tom McComb, from my Salvation Army days, has begun a blog. His blog is truly outstanding. He provides daily inspirational sound bites. Every post offers a brief scenario to consider and an inspirational take-away that leaves me wanting to be a better person.

He also leaves me wanting to be a better blogger. I often look at my posts and remind myself that the key question for a writer is "So What?" It is easy for me to lapse into merely providing diary-like updates (we did this today... the kids said this ... etc.). Part of me doesn't want to relinquish the right to fall back into those type of posts because it provides me with a chance to document the daily ins and outs of our lives.

For example, today I wasted plenty of time viewing multiple You Tube videos of plantar wart removal surgery. Yesterday, the big deal in my life was a trip to the dermatologist to have not one, but two, hideous warts cut out of my left foot. Given my fear of shots and my wimpy disposition when it comes to medical interventions, this was a fairly traumatic experience. However, in the end, I decided, even if it shattered my world (and led to a hobbling gait which I will probably cling to for a month or two) it was not something any reader would care to participate in with me.

Indeed, part of me really wants my blog to serve a bigger purpose than merely recording our actions. I want to find ways to improve my blog and attract more readers (I can't think of anyone who writes without a desire for someone else to read their words). I want the time I spend writing to have a greater purpose than merely providing me with an outlet for my thoughts and feelings.

Hence, I feel torn between a desire to pour out my angst, to explain how depression makes a person feel like they are swimming through molasses, and a desire to turn my blog up a notch by striving to provide a positive takeaway. Then, I remind myself that it could just be possible that a positive take-away isn't ... well, possible ... for me, anyway. The place that I am at (a place that God is fully aware of) doesn't really lend itself to the style of writing I am longing for.

So, for now, I will hang on tight, during this blogging see-saw ride. Hopefully, some of my posts will be light and entertaining. But, I am equally hopeful that my readers will bear with me when I am low and raw. Because, frankly, sometimes all of us feel low and raw. For now, I'm here to sit patiently with those who, like me, are low and raw. Who knows, maybe you'll even feel a sense of camaraderie in that and realize that if someone else struggles with the low and raw, too, then chances are pretty great that you'll survive to touch the sky again one day.

For Such a Time as This - Haiti

A few weeks back, my brother, Mark, gave me a word of encouragement over the phone. Apparently, in my previous phone call I had been voicing frustration over the boys and my role as mother (sometimes I don't even realize how intensely my anxieties are expressed). He wanted me to know that after he hung up, he felt very strongly that he should have expressed a particular word of encouragement to me. He said that he should have said, "You were made for this! All those years you spent aching for a life's partner and for a family ... it has come and you were made for just these very moments. This is what it all was leading up to."

Of course, he's right. Despite the fact that I pursued a master's degree and had career goals, I did indeed yearn for a spouse and children. I resolutely prayed that God would bless me in that way. Sometimes, I forget that, in the midst of my daily struggle to be content in my role as mother (especially, when I am plagued by doubts as to my fitness for the job).

This past week, my thoughts, like those of millions of others, have been focused on Haiti, in the wake of the devastation from the earthquake which decimated Port Au Prince. Initially, this was near to my heart because I have a friend, Steve Diaz, who has ministered for The Salvation Army at their children's home there. I have seen many photos of the children and the facility and watched loads of other friends visit them there.

However, it quickly became even more personal. My sister wrote to say that her husband, Captain David Worthy, was being sent to Haiti to assist with the international emergency relief work. I can think of no better man to send.





David grew up, like my siblings and I, in the home of Salvation Army officers. His parents were stationed in Charleston, South Carolina, when Hurricane Hugo hit. Thus, David was inducted into the realm of Salvation Army disaster services. When Hurricane Andrew hit, his dad was moved to the location to minister and then hired my sister and brother-in-law to come assist him. From that point, my sister and brother-in-law became Salvation Army officers and have garnered loads of education and experience in disaster services work.

David has been sending photos to his Facebook account via his mobile phone to keep us up-to-date on their efforts. It was thrilling to notice that another friend, Craig Arnold, was also on the team with David. Craig is also expertly suited for this role. He works in the shipping business. As David put it, this evening "he's a machine" (he was apparently still working, even though they had all shut down for the evening).



Finally, The Salvation Army agreed to send Steve Diaz back to Haiti as well. I have been imagining the joy on the faces of those children at seeing Steve back on their home turf. He has such a heart for Haiti and loves the people he has ministered to. His Haitian wife, Ketsia, remains in their appointment in Saint Louis, with their one year old son, Kyle. She was relieved to get word that her own family members, though homeless now, are safe. They have been in my thoughts and prayers often this week.



My own corps officer is being sent to Haiti tomorrow, to join my friends and the other workers with The Salvation Army. I am praying for their safety as they minister in what has been declared one of the most dangerous parts of the city (I'm guessing this is because of the looting that has been going on). I am praying that they will be able to be the hands and feet of God as they minister to this grief-stricken and impoverished country. I am thankful that the Lord has made a way for them to be a part of the restoration process, since in sending them, it has stirred the thoughts and prayers of so many who know them personally. God truly raised these men up, for such a time as this. May He also give them rest and renewed vision so that they fully realize how providential it was that they were prepared and called, for such a time as this!

Various and Sundry Good News

My German pen-pal, Katja, has had her baby. She, and her husband Martin, welcomed Kim Sofie into the world:



How I wish I could run right over to visit Katja and hold this precious baby girl. Sadly, it would be very difficult to run to Germany and very expensive to fly to Germany and near impossible to find someone to stay with my own small children. Ah well, I have purchased a cute little outfit and will send it off tomorrow. Still, I'm tickled pink at this grand news!

Then, last night I received more fantastic news from a member of my old writer's group back in DeKalb. I have mentioned and linked to Kyle White's blog here before. He has been working on a series of essays concerning Wisconsin and has just secured a publishing contract! His book, "Wisconsin River of Grace," will be released by Cornerstone Press some time this fall or winter.

I am so thrilled for him in this success. He is an outstanding writer and poet. Thankfully, I know that despite his new membership in that club I mentioned, he will continue to send encouraging words my way and will bring honor to the club! It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy!

Finally, I wanted to mention that I entered another I-Pod Touch giveaway tonight. ES already has an I-Pod Touch, but I really wanted to help this cause. My blogging friend, Renee, is raising money to bring her down-syndrome daughter, Kellsey, home from an orphanage in the Ukraine. She already has a wonderful family with her military husband, Frank, and their four biological children (including a down-syndrome daughter, Kennedy). Now, they are opening their home and their good fortune to another precious girl. If you have $10 to spare and want to possibly win an I-Pod Touch, you only have a few more days to enter this exciting giveaway.

Stepping Back in Time, with One Foot Planted in the Present

Sometimes, when you are young, you don't really grasp the enormity of opportunities which lie before you. You take everything in stride, because "this is just how life is". You aren't keenly aware that life could, in fact, be different in any way.

I have had a chance to look back on my own youth and recognize the blessings and opportunities I took for granted. Sadly, those opportunities really aren't available for me now. But, I did have a rare and wonderful weekend to plunge myself back into the realities of my youth and ponder anew God's many gifts, especially music, friendship, and spiritual support.

Music has always been vitally important to me. When we were kids and reached the age of seven, my father taught us how to play an instrument. Three or four years later, we were allowed to decide if we wished to continue. I believe most of us stuck with it. I know that my two older brothers and I did, because when we moved to Chicago, at the beginning of my freshman year, we were allowed to join the Northern Illinois Youth Band.

Despite the fact that there were few young people at our Salvation Army corps appointment, we were able to nurture friendships with other music-minded teens from around the Chicago division. Looking back on those days, I realize how fantastic that opportunity was. The sense of belonging was intense. The friendships were solid. I knew that if I had any difficulties at all, I could freely share them with my youth band friends and they would rally around me.

Last weekend, with the blessing of my husband (who bravely kept the three boys at home), I travelled back to Camp Wonderland to attend the 75th Central Music Institute's Alumni Reunion. I attended CMI from 1979-84. My father attended during his teenage years. I had hoped that my ES would attend this year, but his summer had already been so busy and it would have meant him missing the first three days of school. As a teenager, CMI was the highlight of my year. As soon as it ended, I began counting down the days until CMI would come the following year.

Thus, I was thrilled to be able to enjoy a weekend getaway and relive memories of that fabulous music camp experience. Many of my Northern Illinois Youth Band friends (who had watched the event grow in its appeal through Facebook updates) were there as well. And, the special guests for this year's CMI were our old NIYB bandmaster, Dr. John Richmond, and a bandmaster my husband sat under at the University of Illinois, Dr. Jim Curnow.

What a blast from the past! We stayed up late talking and reminiscing. We gals shared a cramped cabin with one bathroom and talked fashion (well, they talked fashion ... I listened and marvelled) and old times, just like when we were 16. Of course, these conversations were also peppered with remarks about ailments and health challenges, children, marriage, and jobs. We stood back, amazed at how each of our personalities has remained the same over these many years. We contemplated pranks to pull on the guys in the cabin next door, but in the end, were too exhausted to carry them out. We shared joys and trials and we wondered why we ever allowed a quarter of a century to go by without rekindling these fast friendships.






Saturday evening we were up until almost two in the morning, reliving memories from our youth band days: My tendency to click on my valves during any string band performances. Youth band trips to various destinations (like Missouri, Pennsylvania, North Carolina). Various things that went wrong on those trips, like ... the outdoor concert, in NC, where every breath we took in and blew out, processed a million horrid gnats ... the concert in PA, (or was it Delaware?) where the bandmaster stopped at one point, turned to the audience and said, "I'm sorry. The bandmaster has made a mistake." and later on, to poke fun, the band stopped and said, "We're sorry. The band has made a mistake." ... or the time the Army people at our destination forgot that we were coming and thus, we all stood around on the evening of our arrival being divided up into impromptu billets where the families clearly had not been expecting us!

But, just as nostalgic as the friends made me, the music knocked the breath out of me as well. I guess I really hadn't realized how long it has been since I have read music and performed with a group, either a vocal group or a band. During the Saturday morning rehearsal for the Alumni Chorus, under the direction of Dr. John Richmond, I kept turning to friends and explaining that I felt like a deer in the headlights.

Granted, John Richmond is a choir leader extraordinaire. He articulates the need for focus. He gently reminds us of technical clues and notations. We only had a limited time to rehearse and we sat in our chairs mesmerized by the sheer magnitude of the fact that we were singing under John Richmond's direction again.

At that point, it was still nostalgic fun. Saturday afternoon, we had a brief rehearsal for the Alumni Band. I haven't really played regularly in a Salvation Army band since my graduate school years in Champaign, Illinois, during 1988-90. I was thrilled to be able to sit in the second horn section (while in the past, I would have clamored for the first or solo horn section). Lisa, a NIYB friend, sat behind me in last chair. We were both simultaneously amused and mortified by our mistakes. Key changes were deadly.

It felt so amazing to hold the horn to my lips once again. I was enjoying every minute of it, until John Richmond came forward to sing during a piece called "Our Petition." (You may watch our performance with him here, at the 15:00 mark). I have vivid memories of this piece and John Richmond's voice singing these poignant words. As he began to sing, during the rehearsal, the magnitude of my loss began to overwhelm me. I finished that song and the next fighting back tears.

I don't know if I can even articulate what it feels like to participate in a Salvation Army brass band. The music isn't just a catchy tune, it is music which has been written to honor God and to stir souls. It is, as John Richmond reminded us in our choral rehearsal, a high calling to present music. Musicians fulfill a ministry of the priesthood (oh, if I could only recall his specific words!). When I sit in a band and play such music, it moves me beyond anything else I know. I have always felt that way, but I had forgotten. Now, the "what-ifs" and the "whys" of the course of my life, the paths which led away from The Salvation Army and away from those brass banding opportunities, flooded over me.

I looked down and noticed Peggy Paton Thomas watching our rehearsal. This only caused the tears to fall more intensely. She gave up so much of her time during my teen years to offer me private lessons, gratis. I could never thank her enough, because it meant a lot to me. But, it felt so sad to sit there struggling with the music and wrestling with God over the horn that was set aside.

I called my husband and tried to share my emotions with him. Somehow, with the kids clamoring in the background and him moaning over how the boys destroyed all his cleaning efforts during the four hours when he was at work that morning, I don't think he understood. His final words shook me back to reality. He said, "Well, it's not like there's any opportunity for you to pick up a horn now, anyway."

Finally, I was thrilled to partake of those old opportunities for spiritual support. As I said, my youth band friends readily offered spiritual support back in those days. At CMI encampments and other occasions, we met in groups at the altar and prayed for God to walk us through the trials and difficulties of adolescence. But, now we were standing in the services watching those in our children's peer groups line the altars and pray together in close-knit clusters.

Towards the end of the Sunday morning service, as the altar call (in the Salvation Army, at the close of a service, you are always invited to come forward to kneel at an altar and address any spiritual needs you might have) purred along, the friend next to me grabbed my hand and held it tight. Soon, another friend approached and had a word with me.

She wanted to apologize for not being aware of my recent isolation and loneliness in this move to Indiana. She offered such sincere comfort. Her words were soothing and a balm to my soul. "You are not alone... I'll be praying for you... Let me give you my phone number ... it would be great if you could find a mentor, or someone to meet with regularly to share and pray with ... etc." That meant so much to me.

And for all of it - the music, the friendship and the spiritual support - I consider myself so fortunate to have been able to attend that CMI reunion. I know she was right. I am not alone. Several of the other friends who attended, felt the same needs met. As women, we can pour our lives into meeting the needs of our families and forget that we are still those same girls of our youth and need friendships and passions and spiritual support.

This past week, Pete, one of my CMI friends, posted an enticing status on Facebook. He suggested offering monthly CMI refreshers. I'm sure I could never get away for a weekend every month. But, boy did it whet my appetite. The thought of more than annual gatherings. It is too much. Not to mention, we'd get to sing the CMI theme song more often. What a blast!

Another Good Laugh

Here's a quick plug for another writer friend of mine. Kyle White was our youth pastor back in DeKalb, IL. That is, until we started up the writer's group. Shortly after that, he left his youth pastor position and began to devote more time to his writing. I have always loved his "stuff" (mostly poetry), but was thrilled when I learned of his blog.

He doesn't post to his blog as often as I would like, but I'm guessing that might be a good thing. In fact, I have often wondered about that question of publication following the act of making your writing available to the world at large at no cost to speak of. His writing is definitely worth purchase and I hope to one day buy his essays on Wisconsin (they'll sit right next to my books by Bryson, probably).

But, you can enjoy another good laugh if you visit his blog and read his three recent posts (all of 2009 - sadly). Maybe if he receives a deluge of comments, he'll post more of these entertaining blog entries. Then, again, maybe I'm just deluding myself into thinking I've sent more than two additional readers his way. Ha! Now there's another good laugh!

A Bit of This and That

Tomorrow morning, ES starts school for his 8th grade year. It seems impossible that his summer is already over. The little boys are actually jealous (which ES can't understand). YS keeps begging to go to school and meet his new teacher. I'm guessing CBLI got them in the mood. Alas, they will have to wait two more weeks.

Today, we made another trek to the park. After walking the trail (yes, MS's bike chain broke again, before we completed the walk) the little boys were eager to play at the playground.

This requires a brief side-note: When we were returning from CBLI, we decided we didn't want to travel through Chicago again. I had a book to return to a friend in DeKalb, so I decided to drive home via DeKalb (not exactly a straight line, but quite fun). Immediately, MS asked if we could go to the Hopkins Park pool. He was not quite two when we moved, but he has such fond memories of our times at that pool. We decided to drop ES off at a friend's house and spend three hours at the pool.

On the way to the pool, I called my friend, Renee Olsen, to see if she might want to meet us there. Alas, her kids were already occupied with something, but she invited us for dinner. We had such a wonderful visit with the Olsens that my little boys have been talking about it every day and asking why we can't just go back to their house to play. The Olsens have a marvelous back yard and swing set. One of their daughters taught MS to swing without any pushes from an adult. Now he is constantly begging to go to the park so he can show off this skill.

So, of course, today he ran to the swings, eager to impress. There was a girl on the swings being pushed by her grandfather. She began to talk to MS and their exchange has left me chuckling all day.

She: "My grandpa can give you a push."

He: "No thanks, I know how to get started all by myself and go really high. My friend, Karissa, showed me how. I'm really good at pumping now."

She: "What's your name?"

He answered.

She: "That's a very nice name."

He: "How old are you?"

She: "Six. How old are you?"

He: "I'm four."

She: "Oh good! I like young people."

He went on to offer her a chocolate for the person who could swing the highest. This was something he kept doing during CBLI. He would say, "First person to the door gets a chocolate." Wish he had his own chocolate to be doling out!

Still, I felt like offering him a chocolate later in the afternoon. He was stung by a bee. The first time he was stung (at CBLI) two years ago, he had an allergic reaction and ran a high fever for a few days. I have tried to impress upon him that he might have another allergic reaction if stung again. But, this can't stop a creature lover.

I immediately called the doctor's office to ask what I should look for as a sign to get help. I have been watching his lips and tongue for swelling. Thankfully, he is only complaining of pain at the sting site. No fevers. No swelling. No itching. What a relief. Now that, deserves a chocolate! (Don't tell anyone, but I enjoyed a chocolate, too, on his behalf.)

Now if only chocolate could assuage the twinge of guilt I am feeling. Why do I feel guilty, you ask? Well, last month I wrote a post about an elderly woman who asks about my husband every time I show up at church without him. Even though I wasn't trying to be critical, I feel a horrible sense of guilt because I learned that she passed away.

I'm fairly certain there's chocolate in heaven. I mean, there has to be right? After all, it's heaven! Since she made it there before me, I hope God gives her a chocolate.

Favorite Things Thursday: Laughter with Old Friends

I love to laugh! If there were one intangible thing, I would never want to live without, it would be laughter. Okay, now my brain is going, "yeah, but what about love?" Well, like those plaques I've seen in stores, my three top intangibles would be life, love and laughter.

Recently Cardiogirl wrote a post about her most treasured memory. She drew a vivid picture (with words) of the deep side-splitting laughter which is characteristic of her relationship with her brother. Her explanation caught me off-guard and plunged me into a bit of a nostalgia chasm. It was like I was hit by a brick and picked up the brick and said, "Oh yeah, I remember these bricks. They were really solid and made a good foundation."

For the past two and a half years, my life has been devoted to caring for our two young toddler boys. In order to make this a priority (time-wise), we felt it was necessary for me to leave my full-time job and stay home with the boys. And, in order to do that, we made the move to my husband's grandmother's home on farm land outside of Indianapolis. Although this home is idyllic (and an absolute haven for boys), and although I love this opportunity to spend such a large chunk of my time with my boys, it has rendered me literally friendless. Despite efforts to develop new friendships by finding a suitable church home and getting involved in playgroups and such, I have fallen into the common trap for women with several small children - a deep and abiding sense of isolation.

Then, a few weeks back, I popped over to Kori's blog and read one tiny sentence in the middle of a post, saying she was preparing for the annual women's retreat for our old church back in DeKalb (must have been around the same time as I read Cardiogirl's treasured memory post). My mind brought up all kinds of memories of those women's retreats.

We would pay over a hundred dollars and stay in a retreat center in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Our evenings were always filled with riotous, roll on the floor laughter. Several stories were staples, like Cheryl L's prom story and Laurie C's snake story. We also played several wild games. I remember one included us ad-libbing various actions while rotating seats in a pretend car - vague memories of someone going into labor. Another one, which left me forever feeling like the final moron in the room, was called "The Broom Dance" - I never did figure it out, they had to tell me the answer! Groan!

Thankfully, when I popped over to the church's website, I discovered that they have a new format. The retreat cost was only $15 and included a Beth Moore Bible Study from Friday night through Saturday afternoon, right at the church. When I ran the idea by my husband, he was eager to make it happen for me (i.e., he recognized the dehydrated nature of my heart and soul).

My friends, Andy and Renee, let me stay with them, which gave me a chance to see their five kids (man kids grow quickly!). I also sent out an e-mail to several of my old writer's group buddies, hoping we could get together on Saturday night to eat Giordano's pizza (Sycamore now has a small store-front Giordano's - when we lived in DeKalb, I would sometimes drive to Rockford to eat at Giordano's because their stuffed spinach pizza is fantastic) and watch an Anne Lamott DVD (passed on to me from Cardiogirl's husband).

The retreat was wonderful (and I will have to post more about it at another time), but the very best medicine for my relational drought came on Saturday evening. Sadly, by Friday night, I hadn't heard a positive response from anyone in the writer's group. Saturday morning, I made a general announcement inviting the women from the retreat. The retreat was slated to end at 4:30 and I set a meeting time of 6:00.

At lunch, I happily ended up sitting by a woman named Allison, who is in the current writer's group. She asked me if I had contacted Kyle (who is sort of the head honcho now that I've moved away), because he has an e-mail list for all of the writer's group. I chuckled and informed her that I was the person who started the original group, and did send the invite to Kyle, but only to the others who had been regulars back in my day.

That night, five women showed up to enjoy pizza. Four were old friends of mine, and the fifth was Allison. We had such a wonderful time, that Saturday night, when I finally got to bed, my mind was abuzz with words for a post to describe the benefits my soul experienced. Alas, I was too tired, and the bed too cozy, to get up and write down those thoughts (note: this is a writer's no-no!)

As Laura (my funny friend, who last year commented that my Valentine treat might have been more appealing if I hadn't served it on a toilet seat lid - ha!), Yolanda and I sat around waiting for others to come, we perused the newest church photo directory. This brought lots of memories and humor (from past photo shoots and stories of retreats and events).

Laura updated me on her kids, including a story about texting her older kids. She explained that her daughter, Lisa, loves the "Back to the Future" movies, so when she noticed on-line that Christopher Lloyd's house was burned in recent forest fires, she texted the information to Lisa. Lisa sent this reply, "That is sad! I can't help but feel somewhat responsible."

Her mother texted back, "Why would you feel responsible????"

Lisa wrote, "Because someone once told me - 'Only YOU can prevent forest fires!'" I think she gets her sense of humor from her mother.

Laura also told me about how she responded to her youngest son's recent report card. She said she looked it over and told him, "Well, at least you are doing good in SCIENCE!"

Of course, this floored her son, who retorted, "I got all A's, Mom!"

Laura responded, "Yeah, Sciene - A plus! But what about these two MINUSES???"

When Allison arrived, it was clear to see that she was just going to slip into an easy banter as well. She told a story that led Yolanda to burst into a song, which only she knew. We were laughing pretty hard, both at the story and Yo's song. Later, while eating, Allison jumped up and said, "I'm a plumber's wife! I hear a drip!" As she made her way over to the kitchen to check it out, Laura said, "Oh, I thought she was going to adjust her pants!"

We ended up laughing the night away. Several times, Allison mentioned the DVD and we did intend to get to it, but it never happened because we were having too much fun enjoying each other's company. I ended up leaving the DVD with her so that she can share it at a future writer's group gathering. And I certainly didn't mind another reason to keep in touch with a new funny friend.

Now, I just need to find some funny friends down here in Indiana. I think my sons are quite humorous, but it was sure refreshing to laugh with other women. If God could somehow transplant our idyllic home to the outskirts of DeKalb, I'd be most grateful.

As I was washing my hands this afternoon, I decided that the problem lies in our soap. While vigorously scrubbing the germs away, I noticed that the label on the soap container reads "Hypoallergenic * Non-Comedogenic!" Who knew I was washing away all the funnies in life??

This is just a season. New friends are around the corner (these little boys just refuse to stay little). But, for now, I'm clinging tightly to this favorite thing, laughter with old friends (how I wish I had taken a picture).