Our Almost $300 Load of Laundry
Recently we had some trouble with our T Mobile phones not working properly. We had also had some other trouble using the Hot Spot capability. It is a new technology and it simply did not work for us here in the boonies. So, I called T Mobile about a month ago and because our service was not working properly, they agreed to allow us to renew our 2 year agreements on all three lines and try another type of phone. (We had all three tried Phone 1 and then all three tried Phone 2…both did not work.) So, we marched into the Tmo store and started browsing. DD got a Gravity. I got a Gravity 2. DH fulfilled something he had wanted for a LONG time, a Blackberry pearl. We were able to pay for the new phones because his grandpa left him a small inheritance. He had always wanted a “crackberry” and he NEVER asks for anything for himself, other than new jeans each year. He is an amazing, selfless man.
So he got said new jeans and wore a pair Sunday. I offered to throw in a jeans load so that his three new pair could be washed. And guess what was in the pocket. Yeah.
As soon as we realized it, not two minutes later, I grabbed the jeans from the washer, popped the back and took out the battery. We submerged the whole thing in a pan of dry rice and left it overnight. No luck. It was fried. It sort of cried when I turned it on.
I called Blackberry, and there was nothing they could do for us. I called the Tmobile store where we bought it, and they checked to see if there were any open box phones or refurbs we could buy. None. I felt so sad…we had ruined something that he had really enjoyed.
Finally, as a last ditch and feeling really, really sad about the whole mess, I called T-Mobile customer care. And guess what. I cried. The whole thing seemed so hopeless. His new phone ruined. Nobody could help us. He had to go back to a phone that we had problems with. The poor lady took pity on me. She said that since we had been several-year customers and had some technical issues noted in our account, she was going to put a note in our account to authorize a new phone, the same model, at the renewal price. That way I could go into a Tmo store today and get it for him. It was mighty close to the $200 mark, but had a mail-in rebate of $100. I figured that was good enough. When I got to the brand new T-mo store (literally opened 10 days ago) the gentleman listened to the story, checked the account, and then went to get the phone. I told him that I wanted to pay the full amount right then rather than break it up into payments. He gave me my final total and I almost wet myself. I was expecting to hear $180. I heard $53. In my very eloquent way, I stammered out, “Are you sure?” He laughed and said that the pearl flip was less expensive than the one initially authorized to us, and he just went ahead and took the mail in rebate off right then.
So, now the new Blackberry sits here, waiting for its SIM and its rightful owner. And here sits a wife who is so relieved that her husband will once again have a phone that he actually likes and that works consistently. He asks for so little yet he gives so much. You cannot imagine how much it means to me to be able to replace his phone.
Thank you, God, for caring about the little things that worry us!
Joseph
Last night as I was putting the Nativity scene up, I started thinking again about Joseph. I wonder what happened to him? Why is he barely mentioned after he and Mary lost track of Jesus? So, I decided to let my imagination take over.
Joseph must have been a very gentle, good man. Just think of what he was faced with. A girl he loved (I can’t help but think that God would want His Son’s earthly parents to love one another) and planned to marry comes to him to tell him she’s expecting a baby. Right away he knew it was not his child. I imagine his whole world crumbled in that moment. Yet rather than publicly condemn her, he chose to take the high road and quietly sever their relationship. Even is his abject disappointment Joseph was protecting Mary and ultimately, her unborn baby.
Then an angel appears to him. Okay…I have tried to imagine this scene in my head so often. Can you even imagine the internal struggle Joseph must have felt? “Is this really an angel, or just my mind trying to get me to marry the girl I still love?” It really speaks to Joseph’s strong faith that he chose to believe what the angel said to him and take Mary as his wife. If he didn’t wholeheartedly believe that Mary was carrying the Messiah, why else would he choose to take onto himself what would certainly be the scorn and shame that was to come?
Now imagine Joseph’s anguish as he tried to decide if he should take Mary with him to Bethlehem. In my mind, Mary is always very serene and calm. She trusts God’s leading without question. How could she not? Yet I see Joseph in much the same way I see my husband: very logical. I know that Joseph trusted God, but he must have felt very keenly the responsibility to take care of Mary and Jesus. What an enormous load for him to bear.
Imagine the trip to Bethlehem. Joseph, leading the donkey, looking down at his sandals. He must have been making plans and contingency plans. Questions that he could not answer must have plagued him. “Where will we stay?” “Who will help her give birth?” “How will we live?” Can you even begin to feel his despair as inn after inn turned them away? He must have felt horrible, like he had failed God, Mary…the Messiah. Poor Joseph.
None of this was a shock to God. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Yet he chose Joseph to be the earthly father to His own Son. Amazing. Can you imagine that night? Can you hear the soft noises of the animals? Can you feel Joseph’s fear and uncertainty as he helped Mary give birth? Imagine his wonder as he held Jesus?
I believe without a doubt that Joseph was a kind, loving father. He had to have been a very present daddy. Can you see in your mind how little Jesus would play in Joseph’s shop? Remember when Jesus interacted with children later in His ministry? I imagine that He saw Joseph demonstrate a love for children.
It makes me feel so sad that Joseph just sort of drops completely out of the story. Did he live to see his son preach? Did he have any inkling of what was to come? How it must have hurt Joseph to leave his family. For surely Joseph was not alive at the time of Jesus’ death, or Jesus would not have needed to ask John to care for his mother.
Can you even imagine Joseph’s reception into Heaven? If ever someone deserved to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” it was Joseph. What an amazing man of God. He did the right thing, even though it cost him dearly to do so. I hope that God opened up a huge storehouse of blessings for this humble, good man.
So this Christmas, take some time to remember the man who quietly took care of Jesus and His mother. Remember the quiet, unassuming man who raised a child who was not his own, and protected Him. Thank you, Joseph. For raising and protecting the One who would save us. Thank you.
Pure Emotion
That’s why toddlers are fun. Emotions are just pure. The only agenda a toddler has is to look out for themselves. Selfish to the core, they are also intensely lovable.
I always get mildly irritated when people act like toddlers are one of life’s great plagues. Sure, there are tears and temper tantrums. Wouldn’t you get upset if people had a hard time understanding what you wanted? If you thought the whole world revolved around you, your wants and your needs since your appearance here and then you suddenly realize that other people matter too and that you are not simply an appendage of your mother.
Sure, toddlers can be challenging, but they can also be some of the sweetest, most delightful humans you’ll ever encounter. As I said earlier, emotions are absolutely honest. With a toddler, there is no doubt where you stand.
Smiley is turning out to be a fantastic toddler. He’s almost always happy. I’ve never come across a more loving child. He rejoices when members of our family come home from school or work. He is content to play legos with Squishy for long stretches of time. He enjoys “helping.” Dumping the dishwasher with me is a highlight of the day. He loves to put the silverware away and the kiddo cups in the drawer.
One of the sweetest things is watching toddler language development. It is so neat to hear them begin to form words, then sentences. Smiley is in the parrot phase right now where he’ll randomly yell out any word that he’s heard recently. Due to a recent rash of sibling rivalry between Princess and Squishy, Smiley recently popped out with “boot head!” (His version of butthead.) Lovely. Funny, but not quite appropriate.
Funny, too how toddlers can be so independent and “big” during the day, and so tiny and baby-like still at night, when they are sleep, and when they are hurt. Sometimes I just stare at him while he nurses or while he sleeps. What a marvelous miracle children are. What a fun sense of humor our God has! He created these little ones to be the silly, unpredictable creations that they are.
To quote Smiley, “Go Dod!”
2 Years Old!
I can’t believe it! Yesterday my sweet Smiley turned 2. I knew the day would come, and had dreaded it, quite honestly. I mean, who wants their last baby to turn 2?
Why is 2 such a turning point in childhood? I suspect it is a Western thing. We tend to see babies as “big kids” long before other cultures. DH insists that I stop calling him my baby and refer to him as a toddler now. Why the magical cutoff date? As if the day he turns 2 he must go out and get a job. 
I admit the day was a bit difficult, but it was also amazing, as today has been. I am sure it is simply my perspective on things, but I swear he looks taller today. I think he has more words today. And I know I’ve never seen him voluntarily and without prompting pick up his toys and put them away. Maybe there is something to this 2 business.
All I know is that my sweet Smiley is one of the most delightful toddlers I’ve ever known. He’s happy, inquisitive, and just plain fun to be around. Sure there are challenging moments, but how can you appreciate the good if you don’t have a touch of frustrating? Where is the fun in that?
So Happy “Birt Day Day” Smiley! I love you so much it hurts.
My Wrestling Match With God
I’ve never been the sort to shy away from asking questions of God. I figure He’s a pretty big God, and that he can handle the questions and doubts of one small speck of humanity. Always before, my questions have been more of the vague “why all the violence in the world” sort. Never really about death, because most of the people I know who have died were grandparents or great grandparents. Through the sorrow I was able to clearly see God’s mercy in their passing. Although I miss my grandpa, I am thrilled that he is with Jesus, his heart no longer dependent upon a pacemaker, his body no longer skeletal and wasted away to nothing.
But last night a series of events just came crashing down on me in the middle of the night. I lost all self-control and engaged in a wrestling match with my God. Not much doubt about who would win that fight, but would I come out of the battle with my faith still intact?
It all started with an online friend’s death from lung cancer. I’ve never met this woman in my life. But she was a huge presence on GCM. Her gentle spirit and obvious pride in her children touched so many of us. A mother of 11, (one an unborn baby) she ended each of her posts with a Bible verse. This woman was so strong! We believed that God would heal her. We’d prayed for children of our members before who came through cancer and all sorts of health problems. We believed that God would heal her and protect her unborn baby. After all, God wouldn’t take away a young mother, a wife, a Pastor, a humanitarian.
Mary’s death rocked me to my core. I sat here by the computer in stunned tears. Wasn’t God supposed to heal her? This isn’t how it works! A few days went by and I found myself able to see that God did heal her by taking her (and the precious unborn baby) home to Heaven. Still unfair. Isn’t God supposed to be merciful? Where is the mercy in snatching a mother away from her children?
Next came L’s baby. She’s wanted a baby for so long with no success. She finally became pregnant, and I was able to rejoice in her pregnancy without being jealous. (That’s big for me!) I thought of all the pretty things I’d crochet and gift her with. I imagined that she’d finally get a girl after three (wonderful!) boys. I was over-the-moon happy for her, even celebrating morning sickness with her. And then the other shoe dropped there too. She texted me that she was spotting, then I learned yesterday that her baby had died. I immediately felt angry. Beyond words, tears pouring down angry. How is that fair? Why on earth would a loving God give her a beautiful precious gift, get her hopes up, and then snatch it away? That is just so cruel. Does He not know that L and B are amazing parents? Did He not understand how much they wanted their baby? Why take their baby from them and allow some teen crack addict to have a baby then dump him or her in a trash heap to die? Where is the justice, God?
Still smarting from all this pain, I gathered my Smiley and we went to bed. He has a cold right now, and was coughing a bit, but nursed happily and fell asleep. After a few tears, I joined him. All was peaceful until about 1am when he began to croup. Now, this is nothing new in our home of asthmatics. Both boys croup. A lot. No big, it sounds scary but isn’t really that bad. Definitely not worth risking a trip to the ER with all the crud brewing in there. But his cough was so bad last night, even after a breathing treatment, that he was having trouble getting his breath. Vicks, steamy bathroom, a lot of crying, and I was going for my clothes. I honestly debated calling 911 to get him some oxygen faster. As I was getting dressed, he fell asleep on his Daddy’s shoulder. I sent DH to bed to get some sleep for work and sat in the recliner with Smiley. The tears started. Smiley finally fell into a deep, cough-free sleep, so I moved back into our bed and held him up as far as I could.
That’s when the battle started. My facade was broken. The carefully constructed wall that held all this pain and anger away from my heart came down. And the wrestling match began. I knew God understood. I know He knows that I love Him, would do anything for Him. But I also know that He created me the way He did for a reason, and my questions, doubts, and fears don’t insult him. I poured out all the anger and confusion on Him. WHY? Why did Mary die? Why did L’s baby die? Why does my tiny boy have to suffer with asthma and the fear of croup? WHY GOD? I struggled to lay there, still enough to not wake Smiley and my husband. I struggled to hold back the sobs.
Guess what. God, in His infinite wisdom did not give me answers. It still hurts. I am still shocked that Mary died. I am still crying over L’s baby. I still sit here and listen to my toddler’s frame-wracking cough.
There’s one big difference, though. I’m not doing it alone. I know that God feels my pain. I know that He hasn’t abandoned me in this. I know He can see the big picture and I cannot. I know that He can feel my pain, my anguish and He feels it with me. He holds me while I cry. He comforts me when I must press on. After the wrestling match last night, I felt as though He was holding me, as I was holding my poor baby. The comfort of His arms warm and reassuring as I drifted into dreamless sleep.
I feel better today, still aching, but better. It felt good to be able to take all that frustration and anger and turn it into prayer for Mary’s family and for L and her family. It felt good to finally be able to do something.
Church and Technology…they can co-exist!
I grew up in a church that resisted change. Probably change was of the devil himself. Few things changed, and when they did, people were so polarized in their feelings for the change. Right now the big hoopla is over the fact that the “white hairs” are furious that the “youngsters” want to put (insert horrified gasp here) screens up on the sides of the sanctuary and project the words to the songs there. How can one possibly have church without one’s nose pressed into a hymnal? Sacrilege!
Our church is just doing the neatest thing right now. Using technology. I know, right? We were given the option at the beginning of our new series on prayer to sign up for daily, randomly-timed texts reminding us to pray for something specific. There is something really powerful about it. Knowing that hundreds of us are praying at the same moment for the youth of our church, for the pastors in South Africa, etc. The thing that keeps me connected to friends and family is being used as a tool to keep me connected to the One who really matters most. Really, really neat.
So, who is right? My childhood church? Does technology take our minds and hearts off of the things of God? Does it break tradition? Or my church home? Can technology be used to keep us close to our God? I think the answer is absolutely up to the individual asking. Some of those I knew at my childhood church would be horrified at the idea of church and technology being mixed. (See again the above projector example…) Why? Why are we afraid of it? I fully realize that Jesus didn’t walk around with a cell phone, reminding Him to pray. I get that. But times have changed. I am never without my cell phone. (What if one of my children gets sick at school and needs to call me?) Why can’t something that I have never been without become a symbol for the One I cannot live without?
And now for some random awesomeness: a couple of weeks ago we did an amazing mash-up of songs for a special at church. (A perk to being married to a sound guy – you get a cool preview of the awesomeness in store for you!) I was grateful for the heads up, because when the choir (a bit rare for us) launched into a slow, hymn-like spiritual, I would have thought I had entered the wrong church. Turn up the speakers and be ready to rock. Especially those of us who are children of the 80s.
Sickness…
I. Am. Tired. Of. SICKNESS! Seriously. Sick of it. Started with a sinusy/coldy/snotty thing in me. Aggravated with my asthma. Haven’t had asthma problems in YEARS. Hate the jittery way my nebulizer and inhaler make me feel.
So whilst I was battling this scuzz, DH went to the doc for some growth on his eyebrow and came home with a bottle of antibiotics. Apparently his tonsils were about as red as they could get. Super duper. Putting my illness on the back burner to take care of one handsome yet annoying-when-ill man.
I got him well…and then Princess woke up with a fever and sore throat. The fever was decent. Called the doc (she had just gotten over mono earlier this year and has a hard time getting better still when she gets sick) and she saw a nurse practitioner who told me to give her an antibiotic in case it’s Daddy’s tonsilitis, but if her fever is higher tomorrow she needs a H1N1 test. (She’s at the Middle School now…and of the 10 confirmed H1N1 cases they saw on one day at our doc’s office, 9 of them were kids from said school.) Sure enough…fever went up. We did the sneak-in-the-back-door, wear-a-mask thing. Test was negative. Fever broke, long weekend was spent resting…except for me. I still coughed to the point of gagging each night…all night. Felt like a pile of dog poo.
So then…Squishy decided to partake of the illness fest. Fever, crabbiness, sore throat. Not to be outdone, Smiley becomes a partner in crime. Okay…push my aching head, overfull sinuses, and crud in my chest to the back burner and soldier on. I call the doctor about 20 minutes after they open…and all appts. for the day are full. Rock on. I call their main office in the city and snag the last 2 appointments of the day. I grab Princess from school and head out. Upon signing in, I am informed that we will all need to wear masks. Awesome. My favorite fashion accessory. No outfit is complete this fall without the fancy ties that pull your hair. The beautiful criss-cross pattern of the green and white. You doubt me? Check out this bit of awesomeness:
See? I am totally rocking the mask. Smiley, however, was not a big fan of his mask. For one thing, it covered his eyes. Never cool. Imagine trying to keep a mask on a rabid, angry raccoon. That will give you an inkling of trying to convince a 22 month old that the mask is his friend.
So after an hour of trying to entertain three children in a room with roughly the square footage of a shoe box and filled with things crawling with potential germs, we submit to the H1N1 tests and strep tests for both boys. Ah, the joy. Holding down a child while they poke a stick up their nose. And to add insult to injury, let’s gag them with a big honkin’ Q-tip. Wait for another eternity to get negative results all the way around. It’s a virus. Nothing we can do about it. Now “show me da money” and skedaddle on out of here.
I instructed everyone to hold their breaths and not touch anything as we ran out the door. No sense going through all that again, right?
We get home, and keep Joshua home for the day from school. You know…the 24 hours fever free rule? Try keeping a child who feels better out of beloved first grade. It was a hellish day. He was happy to go back today.
I am feeling somewhat better today (apparently I was getting better even on the back burner…thank you, Zicam!) so I saw Princess off as she rode her bike to school. I turned my attention toward getting Squishy off to school again. Yes! My day might just be sneaking toward normal! I gather up my croupy Smiley (asthma…) and go to the church to set up Sunday School classrooms. Then…my phone rings. It’s the school. Squishy has a fever. I tell them I’m on my way.
And…back to the sickhouse we go! Only now it’s with a thoroughly crabby baby with croup and a little boy who has a fever but is otherwise fine…and intensely angry that he missed being Student of the Day because of his “stupid fever.” And because of the 24 hour rule…he’s out tomorrow too.
Frustrating, yes. I’m tired of Kleenex, Motrin, hand sanitizer, cough drops… I’m sick of taking temperatures, sanitizing the thermometer. I’m ready to have fun with my children again. Ready for their eyes to be bright and sparkly again rather than watery and bloodshot.
Know what, though? I think I’m extraordinarily blessed. I get to drop everything and run when the school nurse calls. I can make a doctor’s appointment without worrying about time off. I can park myself on the couch and nurse Smiley and rub Squishy’s back all day long. Being a stay-at-home Mama just rocks.
Daughters
I absolutely adore my daughter. She’s our firstborn, and that is always special. But more than that, she’s an absolutely amazing person. I can understand now why my mom always talked about how nice it was to have my sister and I be friends as well as daughters.
She is kind. I don’t think there has ever been anything that she wouldn’t share or give up for someone else. She might give it grudgingly to her brother, but she’d give it. Generous. I love to see that in her. She is also very compassionate. She wants to be a vet when she grows up. She has an amazing capacity for compassion. It is almost instinctive in her. She can sense someone’s sadness and she simply reacts to do what she can to help that person feel better. When I get sick, she is an amazing caretaker.
She has a gift for knowing how to entertain small brothers. Not sure how she does it, because sometimes she is the only one who can. Smiley calls her “dee-dee,” as his version of “sissy.” It’s fun to see her pride in that. She is gentle to her toddler brother, while adding just the right touch of mischief to make their play fun for him. She can translate just about any of his words, and she is fantastic at remembering to use BabySigns with him. He enjoys signing with her.
She enjoys serving others. She spends each Sunday morning serving. First, she helps lead the singing/dancing for the K-2 crowd. Sometimes alone! She has a fantastic memory and is glad to be there. She takes the time before service starts to play games with the little ones. After large group, she follows the Kindergarteners down to their classroom and acts as a teacher’s helper. She’s even been given an art project from one of her little students.
So what’s my point? I think I have the best daughter in the world. I realize that I am vastly prejudiced in my assessment of her, but I really believe I do have at least one of the best. I love to lay there at night and imagine what her life will be when she grows up. With her capacity for work, for empathy, for kindness, I cannot help but think that she is going to be a fantastic mother someday. My grandchildren from her will be some of the luckiest babies on the planet.
MamaBee