God's Gifts to Me and How I'm Going to Express My Thankfulness to Him

Today is the last day of 2010 and the fourth day of my pre-fast to start a 21 Day Fast.  What???!!!  Yeah,  you read that right.  If you've never heard of or considered a fast that is that long then you undoubtedly think I'm out of my mind.  I've done it twice before in January but I skipped it last year.  I typically don't say anything about it except to others in my life who are doing the same thing in January but I feel like I need to share about it this year.  Before you think I'm doing it to lose weight, think again.  Not that I can't spare a few pounds--I certainly can--but if you set out to fast for 21 days just to lose weight you will fail miserably.  This is much more a spiritual thing than a physical thing but it ends up being a very mental thing as well as you make the conscious choice to deny that cookie or piece of cake or slice of bread or whatever.  You might wonder why I'm choosing to do it this year after skipping last year and I'll get to that later.  A lot of people fast because they are praying for specific things and I honestly have to say that I'm really not praying for anything specific.  My main purpose in doing the fast this year is because my heart is just overflowing with thankfulness for all that God has accomplished in 2010 and how he shows His faithfulness over and over to me.

I guess I need to back up a little to give a better explanation.  This is probably going to end up being another transparent post like this one with an update to that post thrown in.  On Christmas Day we were opening gifts at my parents' house and Ethan was sitting on the floor next to my chair.  We had already opened gifts on Christmas Eve with Uncle Rob, Aunt Lisa, Alex, Mimi and Poppy; but Christmas Day was for the Santa gifts.  Ethan had a good number of gifts to open and every now and then he would lean over to me and whisper that he couldn't believe he had gotten that many gifts.  When we were finished opening he said, "Wow.  I didn't know I was that good of a boy this year."  While it was funny in the moment and I explained to him that some of his gifts were to share with his older brother and younger brother--benefits of being the middle child--I started to give it further thought later on.  First of all, Ethan is a good boy.  All of my boys are good and I tell them so frequently.  They aren't perfect, and they won't ever be; but they are obedient, sweet, and the absolute light of my life.  But, Ethan relating getting lots of gifts to being a good boy made me think of how we have to do absolutely nothing to receive the true gift of Christmas--God's Son, Jesus.  He sent His Son to make the ultimate sacrifice and we can't do anything to earn it.  It's a free gift, only contingent upon our willingness to accept it.  When I decided to do the fast I thought about this gift and how I just want to express my thankfulness to Him.

Now, to answer the question as to why I skipped last year, it was because of my inner ear situation.  I began having the serious equilibrium episodes in mid-November last year and since one of the thoughts is that it's related to sodium intake I didn't want to rock the boat with my tenuous, unpredictable condition.  Once again, if you want the full rundown of what happened to me physically up until October 2010 then you need to read this post.  However, in mid-October I believe I came upon the final solution to my inner ear problems.  I have my Mom to thank for that, and of course, God for leading me to the solution.  Here's where I sound like I'm getting compensated from my new doctor for saying this.  I started going to one of only two doctors in St. Louis who do "upper cervical care."  It's a completely different kind of chiropractic care that focuses solely on the top seven vertebrae.  Before you think I'm crazy, let me tell that you that the proof is in the results.  It's possible that the misalignment in my upper cervical spine is due to a bad fall I took down the stairs when I was ten years old and it brought about the symptoms I've experienced over the last three years.  Currently, I have very low-volume ringing in my left ear and no equilibrium symptoms at all.  Yea!!!  I feel like I have my life back.  I won't go into detail as to how it works for sake of not making a long post even longer, but if you are interested in learning more about it you can google "upper cervical care."  I found my doctor by googling "upper cervical care St. Louis."  This type of treatment helps all sorts of problems; specifically fibromyalgia, sinus problems, migraines, digestive issues, etc. etc.  The list goes on.  I am just so thankful to have found the solution to this life-altering, depressing, frustrating situation.  My neurotologist told me at my follow-up appointment after having upper cervical care for about 3 weeks and having a near-perfect hearing test that if this is really the solution to my inner ear condition then he is going back to chiropractic school.  Ha!!  He was skeptical, to say the least, but after my hearing test he agreed to read my brochure.  I go back to see him again in February and I can't wait to do just a tad bit of gloating.  When I decided to do the fast I thought about this gift and how I just want to express my thankfulness to Him.

What else do I have to be thankful for, you might ask?  Of course, there's the usual list of things which we can often take for granted.  Healthy family, my job, food and shelter, cute shoes--you know, the usual things.  But, this year God answered a big prayer for our church in a big way and he did it in His timing which happened to be the week of Christmas.  A coincidence?  I think not.  This is another little piece of transparency which I choose not to share most of the time but I will today in order to give God every bit of the glory.  You see, like many churches our church has struggled in an immense way financially over the last 2+ years.  It's been bad...really bad.  So bad that Lindy has sacrificed so many paychecks over the last 2 years that I gave up counting them about 18 months ago.  He did this so that the staff could get paid because we definitely did not want to lose them.  Doing ministry without staff--specifically our staff--was a worse option by far than sacrificing income.  It was also a matter of making sure the church electric bill got paid.  There were many instances where it was an hour before they were coming to turn off the electric and the money was somehow scraped together to keep it from happening. Needless to say, this has been extremely stressful for Lindy, who carried this emotional burden of this by himself for a long time; and then for the staff and the board.  But, as we know, God is always faithful and He always pays his debts.  We can stand upon His promises.  His Word says that He honors our faithfulness to Him and while Lindy and I have been faithful in tithing, giving to missions, taking visiting ministers and missionaries out to lunch; we always knew that we couldn't out give God and He would show Himself faithful.  He absolutely did.  Without getting too technical in this explanation, Lindy and the board worked an amazing deal for an easement on the cell tower that sits on the church property; and it has proven to be very lucrative.  After Lindy closed the deal on the Monday before Christmas the church got the first check that not only was used to tithe to several ministries and missionaries, it got the church completely out of debt--with the exception of the mortgage--and started paying Lindy back a few paychecks along with some reimbursement of expenses incurred over the last three moths, and a tidy little bonus to boot.  The staff were also paid in full and given bonuses; and we all rejoiced in what we knew God would do all along--be faithful to His promises.  When I decided to do the fast I thought about this gift and how I just want to express my thankfulness to Him.

This has been an eventful year full of blessings.  I am a "glass half full" person so I tend to focus on the good and shake off the bad.  I know that 2011 will be wonderful in unexpected ways and I can't wait to see what God does just because I choose to trust Him.  I pray God's best for you in this new year too.

Ethan is MY HERO...and for the Last Reason You Might Expect

Fair warning to any readers who have a weak constitution--in other words this post is sure to be both graphic and gross.  I know parents of young children will relate to this, and specifically, about 20 of my close friends whose families have had the recent displeasure of experiencing the horrific scourge known as the...stomach flu.

Our experience began in the wee hours of December 1--what a way to usher in the month we celebrate our Savior's birth.  It began with Jac, oldest at eleven years old, coming in our room to tell us that Gavin, youngest at four years old, had thrown up.  This was at 12:37 a.m.  (I know you're familiar with how those times that register on the clock when something significant happens stay lodged in your mind's eye).  Why, you ask, was it Jac that came to tell us that his brother had thrown up?  Well, of course, it's because not only had Gavin thrown up all over his bed including his pillow and covers and he had managed to spray a large amount on the wall behind his bed which then ran down to puddle in the carpet below; but he also managed to go to Jac's room and throw up on Jac's comforter and the clothes he had set out for the next morning.  Nice!  So, Lindy and I jumped into action and assume our usual roles.  I'm on kid and laundry duty.  He's on carpet duty.  I started the bedding in the laundry, got Gavin showered and changed; and Lindy cleaned the vomit sprayed on the wall and puddled in the carpet.  Honestly, he was surprised it came out but Oxyclean and Folex work wonders.  Gavin spent the rest of the night on the floor in a sleeping bag in front of his bathroom.  Each time he would yell out I would run to him, scoop him up, and hold him over the toilet.  Gavin's stomach flu lasted about three days with Lindy, myself, and Grammy making sure he made it to the toilet each time.  We were all praying that it wouldn't spread as the scourge known as stomach flu has a tendency to do.  I was praying especially hard because on December 3 I was leaving to go to Chicago on a girls' weekend.  We should have bought stock in Lysol and Clorox wipes.  I even made Gavin wipe his hands and mouth with a Clorox wipe.  I know, I know that we are not supposed to disinfect kids but I really did not want to get sick.  I kept the Pepto Bismol close at hand and, thank God, did not get sick. Neither did the rest of my family and we thought we were home free until...

Jac awakened us more than a week later in the wee hours of December 10 to tell us that he had thrown up.  He and Ethan, middlest at eight years old, had been complaining of stomachaches the night before and Jac got first dibs at tossing his cookies in the middle of the night.  Now, you would think that our oldest child would have the best success at actually making it to the toilet when he was sick.  Not so, my friend.  Believe it or not, this was worse than when Gavin threw up.  Jac managed to get it all over his bed and both pillows, he sprayed an area about 4 feet by 4 feet on the carpet and rug in his room which also managed to splash on to the wall and other items that were within spraying distance.  He managed to get it on both bathroom rugs and the toilet itself.  I stood there looking in the toilet trying to detect whether any had actually made its way into the toilet.  There were a few token fragments in the toilet but nothing that compared to the display he had just managed to create for his Dad and me to clean up.  Lindy and I just stood in awe outside his room for a moment taking in the sight and smell.  It was an impressive effort of not making it to the toilet.  Once the moment passed we went into action--me on laundry and Jac duty, Lindy on carpet duty.  Fortunately, the part that sprayed on the carpet was more liquid.  Most of the non-liquid matter--and you know what I mean--was on his bed, especially his pillows.  I had the wonderful task of washing off the pillowcases before putting everything in the laundry.  Lindy went to work on the carpet with the hand-held carpet cleaner that we borrowed from his Mom a long time ago and forgot to return.  Thanks, Grammy, it came in handy that night considering it was more than just a puddle of puke as Gavin had delivered for us.  I set Jac up on the floor in front of his bathroom in a sleeping bag with a towel spread out next to him.  I don't waste time with bowls or trash cans with Jac because he can't hit a target that is that defined.  He did manage to throw up on the towel later on in the night.  Both Jac and Ethan were sick the next day and Ethan threw up during daylight hours.  It passed quickly through both of them and, once again, we prayed that the rest of us wouldn't get sick.  We thought we were home free until...

Ethan awakened us almost a week later at 3:00 a.m. on December 16 to tell us he had thrown up.  That's right, we're three for three and the middle child will not be left out of Middle-of-the-Night Pukapallooza.  My first question, of course, was, "Ethan, where did you throw up?"  His response, with a little smugness thrown in was, "In the toilet."  You see, what I haven't mentioned until now is that Ethan is the kid with the claim to fame of having the greatest success at actually making it to the toilet.  From the time he was very little--like two years old--if he was sick he would just walk to the bathroom and throw up and then find us to let us know.  Apparently his brothers take after their Aunt Ronnin.  As legend has it, she didn't ever make it to the toilet to throw up until she was 17 years old.  I happened to be at their house when she attained this momentous achievement and, believe it or not, everyone applauded.  Seriously, we all clapped for her.  I think her mother was clapping the loudest and I can relate.

So, when Ethan indicated that there was not going to be laundry to sanitize or carpet to painstakingly clean at three in the morning, my immediate reply was, "ETHAN, YOU'RE MY HERO!!"  I was especially thrilled that he had made it to the toilet because he had eaten spaghetti the night before.  Need I say more?  Lindy quickly went back to bed when he saw that his assistance would not be needed and I comforted Ethan and got him set back up in bed with a towel on the floor and a trash can.  Of course, he didn't need either of those things because he made it to the toilet once again at 4:37 a.m.  I feel the need to give a bit of a disclaimer here.  Ethan has been sleeping in the guest room lately and not the top bunk, where his actual assigned bed is located.  This post could have had a very different slant to it if he had been sleeping in the top bunk.  Nevertheless, my money would still have been on Ethan to make it to the toilet from the top bunk.  That's why he's my hero.

Social Media and My Old School Ways

This post is certainly not original in any way.  It's probable that nothing that I have to say will be fabulously enlightening because I'm sure it's all been said before in one way or another.  However, it's been on my mind lately so I thought I would just put it down on paper--or in the form of a blog post.

I've been thinking about this massive influx of social media that is apparently here to stay--like it or not.  I know I am terribly old school, but I am one of those people who has never even liked talking on the phone.  If I'm going to have a conversation with someone I would much rather do it in person.  So much of our communication is non-verbal and I would rather be face-to-face than over the phone.  The one huge exception to that was when Lindy and I were in the long distance phase of our relationship and we would talk for HOOOOOOURS on the phone.  Those were the days before free long distance on cell phones or home phones but that was the only option we had.  You take what you can get.  It was also before e-mail.  :)  Wow, we're old!!

Now, we have MySpace (which is old news) and Facebook (which is fun but can be a huge time-sucker), texting, Twitter, etc.  I'm sure there are other newer forms of social media which I haven't even started to learn about.  It took me a while to catch the texting wave but I've found that I really enjoy it.  One thing that I can't seem to get the hang of is all of the texting abbreviations.  In fact, I've made the choice not to get the hang of it and I have such an aversion to it that I try to text with my, typically, correct grammar.  I try to do this even when I'm sending out mass texts at work from my computer.  The only time I abbreviate is when I have to in order to fit in my message in 140 characters.  I'm not the first one to say that all of these short cuts have provided our younger generation with a serious disservice.  Not only do they not communicate as well verbally, they can't write their way out of a paper bag.  Of course, I'm making generalizations here.

I think what it boils down to in my mind is that our lives have gotten so busy that we can't even take the time to text in proper grammar.  We don't have time to see each other in person or even pick up the phone to have a conversation.  We're so busy that we even have to abbreviate the little blips that we send back and forth to each other.  What kind of message, figuratively, are we sending to each other?  Maybe I'm really over thinking this and I certainly don't want to offend anyone out there who could school me on all the texting shortcuts but I just feel that time is one of the greatest commodities we can give one another.  Communication has become so stilted that we've really lost sight of what is important.

This brings to mind the annual birthday tradition that my friend, Deanna, and I have together.  She's very busy, as am I, and it's really difficult for us to make the time to get together with each other.  But, once a year I treat her to dinner and a movie.  The gift I'm really giving her is time because the time we give each other is more precious than any gift that can be purchased.  Likewise, she's giving me the gift of her time since she's definitely no less busy than me.

Maybe all of this social media has allowed us to connect with more people--around the globe, long-lost friends from the past, etc. but much of it is so shallow that even though we've made our world smaller we've also found a convenient way to put up walls and only communicate when and how we want.  We've lost sight of sharing our thoughts and feelings with each other and maybe being there to see the tears on a friend's face and to give a pat on the shoulder or a comforting hug. 

I do like to communicate via e-mail but I proofread every one that I send out to make sure it has the right grammar, tone, content, etc.  I'm really weird that way.  E-mail is a huge time saver but it can be impersonal as well since it falls far short of face-to-face communication.

As far as Twitter is concerned I don't have a Twitter account, don't know how to get one, and don't care to get one.  I don't think anyone has a desire to know what I'm doing minute by minute and I, frankly, don't have the time or energy to read Tweets about what friends and strangers alike are doing at any given time.  Call me crazy, call me old school, call me whatever you want.  I may eat these words one day but I doubt it.

Of course, there is a deeper meaning in my mind related to all that has transpired in our "microwave society."  For many of us who have a relationship with God it has affected the time we are willing to give to Him.  I think if we could we would just send him a text with our needs and hope he's up there somewhere reading it.  We read a verse a day on our Facebook accounts or say a quick prayer and we think that's enough.  God hasn't changed.  He's the same yesterday, today, and forever.  Our time, along with our heart, is the most valuable commodity we can give to Him.  We get out of any relationship what we put into it.  I don't want to give God my shortcuts.  I want to give Him my very best.  I don't want the pace at which our lives move to affect what I'm willing to give to Him.  He's given everything to me.  That's the least I can do.

I have to admit that as I close this post I am feeling a little hypocritical because as I was typing I was flashing back and forth between instant messaging with my cousin on Facebook and writing this post.  I haven't seen her for many years and we've been able to reconnect through Facebook, but alas, it's still not as good as seeing Cara in the flesh.  I guess I'll still take what I can get...and I'll use proper grammar and no shortcuts while I'm doing it.  :)

A Post--Eventually--About Something I've Never Done Before

OK, so apparently I must like shoes.  By that, I mean that I really must like shoes...like more than I ever knew I liked shoes...like it seems that I actually LOVE shoes.  I didn't realize this about myself until this week.  I was planning to write this post about doing something I've never done before and I started looking around me and realizing that everyone else already knew how much I love shoes...whilst it didn't even strike me that maybe I like shoes more than the average person.  Yes, it's true that I have a plastic bin in the basement that holds my "off season" shoes just like I have a huge hanging rack that holds all my "off-season" clothes.  I never saw anything odd about trading out my clothes each season.  My Mom always does it, her Mom did it, and since college I have either been transporting seasonal clothes back and forth to school or changing out clothes from one closet to another, or now--from my closet to the basement.  I'm realizing now that maybe it's NOT so common to trade out your shoes on a seasonal basis.

Back to the "looking around me" part.  I started looking around my office and noticed that my co-workers definitely know that I like shoes.  In fact, they know that I love shoes.  Following are a few examples of cards, gifts, functional items, office supplies, etc. that they have presented me with over the years because they apparently know how much I love shoes.

 I wish this pic had not turned out blurry.  It's a birthday card and the outside says, "The feeling of wearing new shoes while shopping for more new shoes."  The inside says, "That's what I wish for your birthday."  I think this was from Dawn--a nurse who moved a way several years ago and Brian--a social worker I don't get to see much anymore since he works in a different office now.

 I think this card is from Christine as is the "Shoe Diva" card.  Funny that one year I got her a high heel shoe that is a cell phone holder for Christmas.  We must share this affinity for shoes.

 Here's a shoe shopper with four coasters that have various shoe styles displayed.  I think the coasters were from Carrie.

 This was a framed picture of shoes that our lovely receptionist, Esther, left in my office for my birthday this summer.  She and Brenda, and I'm pretty sure other co-workers, painstakingly cut out pictures of shoes and decorated my office with them amidst various and sundry pink girly items.  There were even pink streamers hanging from my ceiling.

 This is a red high heel door stop that Christine got me for Christmas one year.  Enough said.

These magnets came with note cards shown below.

I think this was from our previous home care administrator, Michelle.  

 I believe the sweet little picture below was from our previous receptionist, Michelle.  If you can't tell what is in the picture they are pumps with little umbrellas attached.  What a novel idea?!  It also says, "Just when you thought you had everything."  Cute cute.

These little eraser shoes were from Susan--this summer for my birthday.

This little picture says, "Wishing You Sweet Essentials"

This is the latest item in my collection.  I had misplaced the plain old tape dispenser I've had for years and I was telling Becky about it.  She told me she had seen a tape dispenser I would love and the next thing I knew this was on my desk one morning.

I noticed all of these thoughtful items that have been given to me over the years after I realized that I recently did something that I've never done before.  You see, I buy cute shoes--whether they are flip-flops, heels, boots, etc.  It doesn't really matter as long as they are cute and they go with something that I have to wear...or I can buy something to wear with them.  :)  There have been only two styles of cute shoes that I try to avoid--sling backs and ankle straps.  I avoid sling backs because they just will NOT stay on my heels and that's annoying.  I avoid ankle straps because I inherited my mother's thick ankles and ankle straps don't do anything at all to slim your ankles if you need help in that area.  My mother has even said that she wishes I had gotten my Dad's ankles instead of hers.  Speaking of my Mom, the last time I was at home she was complaining of her knees hurting and I suggested that she get some SAS shoes.  I was jesting, of course.  She told me to bite my tongue.  Those are fightin' words in our world. 

I do own a pair of tennis shoes and, against my better judgment, I have included a picture as proof.  The picture below is me--6 months pregnant with Gavin on a little get-away trip to Chicago with Lindy.  We walked for miles and my feet were hurting.  I think the shoes I was wearing originally were also tennis shoes but they were old and hurting my feet.  I found these shoes at Nordstrom Rack, bought them, and threw away the old pair.  (Obviously, they weren't that worn out since I didn't ever wear them but had owned them for many years.  They just weren't comfortable).   My sister-in-law, Cayla, found this picture in one of my Facebook albums and she commented that in spite of my three pregnancies she had seen very few pictures of me pregnant.  There's a reason for that.  Exhibit A below proves that I'm not one of those cute women who get little basketball bellies.  I get pregnant all over.  Again, enough said, and if you're also one of those women then you share my pain.

So, what did I do recently that I have never done before?  Wait for it...wait for it...(that's what Ethan likes to say).  I bought a pair of actual, real-life, comfortable, sensible shoes.  I can honestly say I've never done that before.  I don't count my tennis shoes as "comfortable" because they really are not.  Lindy always gives me a hard time for wearing flip-flops on summer vacation rather than tennis shoes but flip- flops are more comfortable and you can avoid the weird tan lines.  It's a win-win.  When we go skiing I have my cute pink Columbia snow boots that are really more cute than comfortable.

Buying shoes just for the sake of being comfortable.  What a novel idea.  What spurred this crazy behavior,  you ask?  Well, I'm going on another trip to Chicago where there will be much walking involved and I guess when you get to your mid-30s (no debating that, please) you realize that maybe comfortable shoes aren't such a bad idea.  Don't worry.  I haven't completely gone off the deep end.  I did get fancy socks to wear with them.  :)  Once I'm back from Chicago I'll go back to my preferred shoe attire, but I'm looking forward to no aching feet in the Windy City. 

Here they are, the debut of my Eurosteps sensible, comfortable shoes.  Don't expect me to make a habit of this and if you ever catch me in a pair of SAS shoes just send me somewhere for a full evaluation.  

I will require one.

The Many Faces of Gavin

Sorry, friends.  It's been a long week.  Following are the Frequently Funny and Fascinating Faces of my Favorite Four-Year-Old.  I'm not sure that Lindy would consider any of these a "decent" shot because Gav wouldn't quit clowning around but I thought they were pretty funny.  They started out OK and then just went downhill from there.  Note his Rainbows war wound that is healing nicely.

My Brother...That's Who I Would Choose

When I was very young, about five or six, I remember my Dad playing this game with me.  He would tell me to pretend that I was being filmed for television and I could only say hello to one person.  To whom would I choose to say hello?  Obviously, he was messing with the psyche of a young child and trying to get her to choose Mom or Dad.  (This was all in fun, mind you.  I assure you I carry no deep psychological scars from being presented with this dilemma).  I would come up with all different sorts of answers where I would acknowledge one and send a signal to the other or I would very quickly say, "Hi Mom and Dad!" but he wouldn't let me get away with any of those options.  I had to choose one of them.  Needless to say, I never could choose one over the other.  I think I decided I would rather not say hello to either one as opposed to the heart wrenching choice of preferring one over the other.

As I have been thinking about what to post about next on my blog, my brother keeps coming to my mind.  I have a lot of people in my life who I love and adore, and hopefully, a handful who love me right back.  I could write about any number of people but that brings me back to the dilemma of choosing one person over another.  My solution is to write about my brother.  In writing about him I feel like I'm still paying respect to my parents as he and I are very much a product of the two of them--both the good and the bad.  So, Dad, it turns out that I'm going to choose to say hello to Rob.  I know it's only for the benefit of my tens of readers and not to all of Searcy, AR but it's the thought that counts.

What feels so odd to me is that a lot of the people who are currently part of my every day life have never met my brother and likely might not even know I have a brother.  I do.  I have only one sibling and he's my older brother, Rob.  He's going to be 43 in December which seems really hard to believe.  We don't see each other very often because I live in St. Louis and he lives in Springfield next door to my parents--"Everybody Loves Raymond" style--although they tell me their lives don't really mirror the TV show.  We don't even talk very often.  We do e-mail on occasion and that's probably the most common way we stay in contact.  I didn't even know he read my blog until my Mom told me that he has it as one of his Favorites for web sites.  Awwww.

Rob and I do not have a glowing history as loving siblings growing up--caring for each other, protecting each other, giving lots of hugs and smiles, sharing willingly with each other.  No, we had none of that.  We fought...a lot.  I mean pretty much 24/7 we were fighting with each other.  I think our parents were ready to ship us away to reform school at times.  I don't exactly remember when that phase of our relationship started but I think it was when we moved from Searcy, AR to Springfield when he was eleven and I was six years old.  I look back on that time, knowing that it was one of the most difficult--in so many ways--events my parents have been through and I can see, with my adult eyes, how challenging it must have been for my brother.  He went from living in the country on a gravel road to living in town. He left all his friends behind along with the only life he had ever known.  He was basically stuck with a younger, bratty sister who didn't try at all to realize that this might be more difficult for him than it was for me.  We were horrible to one another.  I know I got under his skin and when we were at home together it was not good.  I remember one particularly dark day when he was being quite a stinker to me and I was trying to call my Mom at work to tell on him.  These were the days before cordless phones.  Several times he let me get to the last number I was dialing and then he would hang up the phone.  I think he let me actually get to the operator once but he disconnected the phone right as I was believing I was going to actually get through to my Mom.

That type of relationship was what we had for many years.  Maybe it's not so uncommon for siblings to fight with each other, but in mind those were some really rough years.  As we grew up and he was in high school we basically chose to not have much to do with each other.  I don't recall having much of a relationship at all but we started sharing friends later on and things got a little better.  In my mind, the real turning point was the summer I turned 19.  I was home from school and he was still living with my parents.  He had experienced a pretty bad break-up and I became the shoulder he could cry on.  He hung out with me and my friends and even went along one time on what I remember was supposed to be a date.  I also remember he and I eating at the Sub Shop together that summer when a guy I had dated once walked in.  There was a reason it was only one date.  I got Rob to pretend he was my date so that the guy would go away.

I don't know if Rob will remember that summer as significant or as some turning point in his life or our relationship but, looking back now, it seems significant to me.  After that, we became actual friends.  I left to go to college in Tulsa that next fall for my sophomore year and when I moved back again for my senior year, Rob was the one who took me back to school.  He moved all my stuff in for me and I remember before he left to go home we sat in his car and he held my hand and prayed for me.  I knew at that moment that all of my parents' prayers for us were being answered.  I was assured that not only were Rob and I on the right track in our relationship as brother and sister but I saw a sincerity and a dedication to God that I knew would not be easily swayed.

That moment was 17 years ago and it's hard to see my brother as the same person that used to torment me.  I look at him now and I see one of the most honest, honorable, humble, kind, gentle, generous people I've ever met.  Even if he wasn't my brother I know I would see him that way.  He loves his wife and his daughter and he is highly respected in his job.   The mere fact that I'm writing all of these things about him on my blog and focusing on him will probably be difficult for him to read.

I think, to this day, that my husband isn't sure how my brother feels about him.  It seems really important to Lindy for my brother to like him because Rob is all the things I just shared.  Looking back, it was probably a mistake to tell Lindy what Rob said about him when we first started dating.  Rob said he was a "pretty boy."  Granted Lindy is "pretty" but I know he wants to be more than that in his brother-in-law's eyes.  My mother had much of the same to say about Lindy when I first brought him home to meet my family.  I think her exact words were, "That Lindy is too good looking.  He's going to be trouble."  Mom, trouble he was, but it was our mutual stubbornness that took us five years to actually walk down the aisle.  I could write a book about how wonderful my husband is, but remember, I chose Rob.

There are so many examples I could share to highlight my brother's true character but that would make for a book, not a blog.  I'll try to pick just a couple.  I recall a particular Christmas before either of us were married.  It might have been the last trip that our family of four went to south Louisiana for Christmas to be with my Mom's family.  (That was pretty much how we spent every Christmas--in shorts and eating shrimp and crawfish).  Before we left town my brother wanted Dad to stop by his work because there was someone he knew who had several children and not much money to give them Christmas gifts.  My brother had some cash in an envelope that he was going to leave anonymously for his friend.  I'm sure he wouldn't have even told us that much but he had to convince my Dad to stop by his work.  He exercises that kind of generosity and selflessness to this day.  I have no idea if any of Rob's friends know anything about my blog but I'm sure there would be many, many accounts of examples just like this.   I know he gets this aspect of his character from my Dad because Dad "stalks" people at the grocery store during Thanksgiving and Christmas.  He goes to the not-so-nice section of town and looks for people who might not have enough money to spend on groceries.  Then, he goes to the manager and offers to pay for their groceries anonymously.  His technique has changed over the years because some people have actually gotten offended by his efforts.  He's still out there trying to help everyone he can.

About a month ago I went to Springfield for the funeral of my brother's father-in-law.  I didn't know Ken very well, but I felt the need to go to support my brother and sister-in-law because I love them and care about them.  Before the funeral started, Rob said he was going to be getting up to talk and he was concerned he couldn't do it.  I know he's not much for public speaking but his apprehension had to do with his fear of getting emotional and not being able to get through what he had to say.  You see, my brother saw the positives in Ken and he wanted to convey what an impact Ken had made on his life.  He wasn't able to get through it without breaking down, and my parents and I sat there completely touched by this man that has his own family yet is still a part of us.  My Dad is the only one of us who can really express how he is feeling without crying.  I blubbered like a big baby at my brother's wedding rehearsal when I tried to get up and say all that he means to me and I did the same thing at my Dad's retirement dinner.  For not being a crier I really shed a lot of tears when it comes to taking down those guards around my heart and expressing how I really feel about those I love most.

After the funeral, my parents and I were waiting in the car to leave for the cemetery and we were discussing what Rob had shared.   Most of Ken's children had also spoken along with others, but naturally, we were most touched by the words of the one who shares our DNA.  My Dad really hit the nail on the head when he said, "You know, your brother is a man without guile."  I knew exactly what he meant because I had a student teacher in 5th grade whose name was Ms. Guile and she taught us the definition of that word.  It's not a word commonly used to describe people, or to describe the behavior they don't display.  Maybe that's because there aren't a lot of people out there who are completely without guile.  Guile means "crafty or artful deception" or "duplicity."  My Dad put into one word what I already knew about my brother.

One thing I have learned from him--or maybe we both learned it from our parents--is to always give people the benefit of the doubt.  If you talked to my brother you would never hear a critical or unkind word about anyone.  He will always take up for people and give them the benefit of the doubt, even to his own detriment.  That practice has served me well in my personal and professional life.  I always assume the best of people and I feel like it's enabled me to get along with just about everyone I meet.  My brother is the same way.  We treat people as if they have no devious or ulterior motives.  If we get hurt, so be it; but it's better than living your life always being suspicious, expecting the worst in people, or expecting to get hurt.

My brother is wonderful in all the ways in which it's important to be wonderful.  He's not much for team sports.  I think when he played t-ball and soccer as a young child he spent more time chasing bugs or butterflies than he did focusing on the game.  He's smart in ways I am not.  He's completely mechanical and understands the way things work.  I completely missed that gene.  It was only two years ago when Lindy went to Israel that I learned how to successfully plunge the toilet.  It seems that I always had my brother or my Dad around to understand how things work and now I have Lindy or his mother.  Lord, help me if I ever have to fend for myself.  When we were both living at home Rob was taking a refrigeration class.  I used to tease him after every class about whether they had taught him why that light comes on every time you open the door.  Clearly, I know nothing about refrigeration.  On those tests they make you take in school where you have to look at a pattern and then pick out which object it would be if you folded it up, Rob excelled.  I could never wrap my brain around that kind of thing.

Rob doesn't really like to spend his time reading.  I gave him a book last Christmas which was an interesting gift choice for him, but I really wanted him to read it.  Recently he told me he had almost finished it and, honestly, I was surprised he ever opened it.  We are both very even-keeled, not a lot of highs and lows.  You pretty much get the same person every day with us.  I think that has served us well too.  Rob is extremely adventurous, whereas I am not.  He's done some crazy things and is pretty much fearless.  He and my Dad are people who always have to have some sort of big project.  I've never known either one of them to "exercise" because they've never been people who sit still too much.  Why exercise when you are active all the time in just the way you live your life?  I think that's the French in them because French people think Americans are crazy for all their organized work-outs.

All in all, my brother is the one I choose to highlight on my blog.  He's also one that I would choose if I needed a steadfast friend, someone I know I can trust to a fault, and a man of God who lives out his life with the utmost integrity.  I'm blessed because he's a part of me and I hope I have, in some small way, turned out to be someone that makes him proud.  It wasn't an accident that he turned out to be this man.  We have wonderful parents who have made it all appear easy to follow our convictions.  Rob, we are blessed (and not in the generic way this word is most often used) and I am a better person for having you in my life.

My Current Quandry...and the Week in the Life of a Mom of Three Boys

Just in case my tens of followers thought with my last post I had left behind my witty side--fear not, I'm back.  Lindy greatly prefers my serious, larger purpose posts but I just tell him that I'm a multi-faceted person.  I can't be limited to just one type of blog post.

So, here's my current quandry...I cannot seem to pare down the number of lip colors I'm carrying in my purse.  I tried yesterday and most of you will probably think I'm a little whacky but I could only pull one lip gloss out of the rotation.  I like to have a variety of lipsticks, glosses, balms, etc. so that I can match whatever I'm wearing and I have fun mixing it up and trying different ones together.  I know, I know if the whole world had problems as big as this this one we would be in quite a fix.  Here's what I'm carrying around currently in no particular order:

Bare Minerals lip gloss in Jelly Roll
Merle Norman Berry Kiss double-ended lip pencil
Avon Glazewear Sparkle lip gloss
Avon Glazewear Shine lip gloss
Bare Escentuals Buxom Lips in Candi
Mary Kay lip gloss in Pink Pearl
Bare Minerals lip pencil in Shell
Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm
Avon Glazewear Intense lip gloss
Mary Kay lip gloss in Frosted Rose
Bare Minerals lip gloss in Sugar Plum
Bare Escentual lipstick in Berry Cordial

That's all.  Really, is that too many?  How many is too many?  My favorite one is the double-ended lip pencil from Merle Norman, but I have to keep it sharpened so when I'm lazy and don't sharpen it I use other colors.  I like it so much that I bought one for my Mom and she loves it too.  I was at a meeting in Fort Worth last spring and the girl who sat across from me all day had one question for me before she left for the day.  She had to know what lip color I was wearing and it was the Merle Norman lip pencil.  She stood right there and typed it in her iPhone so she could find it later--and she had never even heard of Merle Norman.  Never heard of Merle Norman??  What planet has she been living on?  Merle Norman is old school and she was my age.  I think she was from Georgia.

Also, depending on what I'm wearing I need to have all of these so that I can have the right color and the right texture--matte, glossy, shiny.  You know what I mean.  This issue kind of reminds me of when I was little and I didn't want to ever leave one of my dolls out of the play rotation because I couldn't bear the idea that one of them might feel left out.  I'm not looking for suggestions or help because, honestly, I believe I'm beyond help.  Just letting you in on what's in my purse and what's on my mind.

On a completely different topic, here's a look--not into my purse--but into a Week in the Life of a Mom of Three Boys.  This will actually focus on the two younger boys.  Jac's had a pretty uneventful week.  So, Ethan had one of his front teeth that was loose for at least a couple months.  He had been wiggling it and working it with no success.  A couple weeks ago he went to the dentist for his regular check-up and the dentist told him that if he didn't have that thing out in a week then she was going to pull it for him.  Nothing like putting the fear of God--or the dentist--into an 8-year-old to get him motivated to pull his tooth.  He was eating apples, wiggling it, his Dad was using a towel, wet paper towel, pliers...you name it, they tried it.  No success until last Saturday morning.  Lindy finally got it out.  The permanent one had already poked through the gum so it was definitely time.  That day was a great family day and we went to Forest Park and the Omnimax.  Guess who, or what, came along with us?  That's right.  Ethan's tooth was along for the ride.  In actuality, the tooth had a front row seat in my cup holder.  I know, yuck.  I didn't put it there.  One thing you must know about Ethan to appreciate this story is that he is very sentimental.  It's like pulling teeth to get him to part with anything.  Pun intended.  The next morning I was ironing the boys' clothes for church and Ethan and I were chatting.  I asked him why he didn't put his tooth under his pillow for the tooth fairy and he didn't really have a good answer.  I could tell he was having some issues parting with this tooth that served him well for eight--well, really, seven years.  (Ethan didn't get his first tooth until he was nine months and his second tooth when he was 12 months.  We honestly doubted whether the kid would have all of his teeth before he went to Kindergarten).

Given Ethan's penchant for keeping things I knew what was required in this situation.  So...we had a little "goodbye" moment for his tooth.  Not a funeral, mind you, we're not weird after all--just a little parting ceremony.  Ethan and I thanked the tooth for being so nice and straight and white.  We thanked his tooth for helping Ethan all these years with his biting and chewing and we said goodbye.  Goodbye to the tooth.  That night he put it under pillow and the tooth fairy brought him a dollar.  He was hoping for more because it was his third lost tooth, after all.  I'm not sure what the going rate is in today's economy but I think the tooth fairy thought a dollar was sufficient.  Now the tooth is in tooth heaven with Ethan's two other teeth and an abundance of Jac's knocked out and regular teeth.

On the Gavin front, we had an unexpected trip to the ER this week.  Now, going to the ER is not a regular occurrence for the Carnetts.  Jac's only been once when he was about a year old and had bronchitis.  I still get flak for that one for driving 90 mph to get him to Children's Hospital.  I know, not my most brilliant moment.  Ethan's been once--for 6 or 8 stitches a couple years ago.  This was Gavin's second time.  The first time he was about 9 months and just had a viral infection but his temp was 104 and he was having retractions.  Scary!!  So, this 4 1/2 year old who's never even required an antibiotic in his life had his second trip to the ER on Wednesday night.

I was teaching his Rainbows class at church. I have to pause here and say that I'm really glad I was the teacher that night and that it was my kid that got hurt.  I had three little boys in class and they were playing musical chairs.  Gavin wiped out and hit his head on a metal folding chair--which wasn't even in play for the game!!  So, big gash, blood pouring down his face, my mother-in-law helping me to get the bleeding stopped because I had already lowered myself to the floor.  I told myself it was so I could be closer to his level but I think it was really so I would be closer to the floor in case I passed out.  I know, I know. I'm a registered nurse  and I have a real issue with blood and seeing people in pain.  Don't worry.  I sit behind a desk, people.  I'm not out there actually taking care of patients.

Since it was hard to tell with all the bleeding whether it needed stitches, off I went to the ER with Gavin.  Lindy was speaking in the main service, and church must go on, so he met us there later.  (I do think if one of our children poked out an eye or was missing a limb he would leave church to go to the ER.  As it was, my mother-in-law broke the news to him after church).  On the way to the ER Gavin was talking a little, mainly saying that he didn't want to go to the hospital, but talking nonetheless.  By the time we got there he suddenly clammed up and didn't hardly utter a word or shed a tear.  Every question that was asked by the nurses or the doctor would result him in pointing at me to answer the question.  He was still wearing his Rainbows vest which resulted in a lot of comments from all of the ER staff but he was having none of it.  He just stared straight ahead and avoided eye contact at all cost.  He turned down popsicles, a teddy bear--even chocolate.  I was beginning to wonder if his head injury was more serious than originally thought since he was turning down chocolate.  But, alas, in the final analysis he didn't even need stitches or glue.  I have to admit I was a little disappointed in my assessment skills but it's seriously hard to tell sometimes whether stitches are needed.  Right?  Lindy and I were showing Gavin all the scars he and I sustained when we were kids and I can guarantee you that neither of our parents ever took us to the ER to be checked out.  Seriously.  We left with some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid.  Better to be safe than sorry, right?  I'm telling myself that, but then I haven't gotten the bill yet.

In the end, Gavin did get his voice back long enough to leave with a popsicle from the doctor, long enough to tell me twice that he was NOT going to ride in the wheelchair sitting outside his room, and long enough to tell his Dad he wanted Buzz Lightyear as his special prize.  I saw that one coming.  Lindy told him he would take him to Wal-Mart and let him pick out a toy.  He had one word, "Buzz."  He's been eyeing Buzz ever since he saw "Toy Story 3."  I've told him repeatedly that this was a Christmas or birthday type of toy since it it's $35.00.  By the way, he didn't get Buzz.  Lindy came to his senses by the time they made their trip to Wal-Mart.

On Thursday, Gavin didn't want to leave the house because he said his head was "broke."  He's fine now and I've sufficiently recovered from the trauma myself.  Selfishly, I hate seeing him hurt but it sure was nice for him to need his Mama for a couple hours.

Just a week in the life....

The Transparent Post I've Been Avoiding...TheTruth About The Dizzy Blonde

I know I mentioned when I started this blog that I didn't really know what I would write about, how often I would post, or what direction it would take.  It's been nearly two weeks since I've posted and my personal goal has been to have something of value (of course value is relative) to post about once a week.  I haven't posted because I've been trying to come up with something different than this to write about.  I've been rolling over ideas in my mind and I've used busyness as an excuse to avoid writing anything as personal and transparent as this.

You see, I would rather come up with something funny to write about and possibly add in some sort of redeeming take-away.  I would rather not let people see that the person they might view as having it "all figured out" really doesn't; and in fact, struggles with some of the same issues.  I would rather be the strong one who people go to for advice, counsel, or prayer.  I would rather not appear as if I might have a chink in this self-imposed armor that I carry around.  Yet, at the end of the day I know I'm human and I don't have all the answers.  I just know the One who does and I choose to put every ounce of my faith and trust in Him, even when I don't understand.

My personal struggle at this moment is an inner ear issue that I've dealt with for the last three years.  It's a very long story, and if you haven't personally been with me on this journey during this time, then I'm not going to bore you with the details.  Basically I've had sounds and ringing in my left ear for the last three years and over the last year I've experienced varying degrees of dizziness and problems with my equilibrium.  When I say "varying degrees" that's a nice way of saying anywhere from a mild unsteadiness where I feel kind of "off-kilter" to lying motionless on the bed, couch, or floor--honestly, I'll take whatever's available at the moment--trying not to toss my cookies.  The worst degree is me actually tossing my cookies, and if you know me well, you know I'd be a horrible bulimic because I absolutely hate throwing up.  The most frustrating and challenging part of my equilibrium problem is that it is mostly unpredictable.  Most of the time the noise in my ear gets louder and the quality changes prior to one of these attacks.  Sometimes it can come on suddenly and when it starts I don't always know what degree of attack it's going to be.  I have now been to a total of 8 doctors--the last one being a neurotologist--and he is so specialized that a lot of physicians haven't even heard of this sub-speciality.  He's a cross between a neurologist and an ENT and I've chosen to refer to him as my "fancy doctor."  You see, you can make anything in life light-hearted if you try hard enough.  :)  If you're one of my nursing colleagues you've surely diagnosed me by now and it's true that everything has been ruled out except for Meniere's Disease.  Here's the tricky part.  I refuse to accept that diagnosis.  I'm not whacky enough to deny that I experience these symptoms, but I am just crazy enough to believe that I'm going to overcome this and I refuse to say that I have it.

You might wonder what has brought about this sudden transparency and my decision to blog about this issue at this time and I truly think it's because I felt like I was reaching a breaking point last Sunday.  I had been to see my fancy doctor on  the previous Thursday and he wanted me back on the diuretic--which I had tried before without much change in the dizziness--and he wanted me to start on Valium.  Now, I'm a nurse and I know that Valium is a useful medication that can be very helpful in some instances, but I don't want to live in a medicated state.  I honestly felt a little hopeless sitting there in his office.  It's really disheartening when the diagnosis the fancy doctor wants to give you is the same one the less fancy doctors have given you and it has no known cause and no known cure.  At the same time I'm conflicted on the inside because I'm thinking of others around me who are inconvenienced when I'm incapacitated lying on the floor--my husband, my kids, my mother-in-law, my wonderful co-workers; and I feel like I owe it to them to try what the fancy doctor says to do.

Have you ever had something going on in your life where you feel like you would just prefer to go crawl in a hole and hide?  I'm sure I'm not alone in this.  Crawling in a hole and hiding feels like a plausible option for me sometimes.  Then I could just avoid it and pretend it doesn't exist.  Of course, me--being me--then feels guilty because while I'm in the hole then I'm only inconveniencing those around me even more because I'm not there to do all the things I'm supposed to do.

So, fast forward from nine days ago to last Sunday.  I honestly was just feeling pretty hopeless.  Before Lindy even started preaching I was already crying--and I'm not really a cryer.  Whether it's at church or anywhere else it takes a lot to make me cry.  What does he preach on?  (Keep in mind that I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've known what he's going to preach before I hear it myself).  Depression.  Depression!!  That's what he preached about.  I sat through his whole sermon just trying to not fall apart.  When he gave the altar call at the end I brought my blubbering self forward and stood with the others for prayer.  I sobbed and just emptied myself of all the heartache and feelings of hopelessness I've been carrying around.  I wish I had his notes handy so I could let you read what he preached but you can listen to the podcast at www.stpetersassembly.com if you're curious.

This is the first time I've really allowed myself to feel everything that I've been holding inside regarding this issue with my ear.  I typically just go about my business and believe that I am going to eventually be healed of this thing.  In fact, I speak it over myself every day because I believe so much in the power of our words.  I not only speak out Scriptures, but I also tell myself that I have perfect hearing, perfect balance and equilibrium, and that I will accept nothing less than my ear being restored to the way it was created.  Is God big enough to do that?  Yes.  Does he really care about this issue that might seem minor in comparison to the struggles others face?  Absolutely.  Even given all of that, I still get discouraged and I felt like I wasn't yet in a state of depression but I could very easily get there.  I've been prayed for too many times to count that I would be healed from this inner ear issue and I haven't realized it in its fullness yet.  That doesn't mean I'm giving up.  If I have a day with no dizziness I give thanks to God at night for a day free from it.  If I have a bad day where I'm down for the count, I still tell him I trust Him and that I'm believing for a day free from dizziness the next day.

I guess another reason I'm choosing to open up my heart and share about this right now is that I've had two situations in the past week where I was sought out for a shoulder to lean on.  In the most recent one my friend, who doesn't go to church and I know doesn't feel like she's on the same level as me spiritually, said she was telling me about her situation because she knows I have a "direct line to God" and she was really in need of comfort and peace.  I took this opportunity to explain to her that God does not see any one person as better than another.  He hears her prayers just like He hears mine and that He has known her since before she was created.  I prayed that through this situation He would make Himself real to her and meet her need.

Another reason that I sometimes feel conflicted inside is that since I work in hospice I know the worst of the worst that people can experience in their physical bodies.  I sometimes feel guilty for even complaining about my little inner ear issue when there's a mother my age out there battling terminal cancer and trying to find the words to say good bye to her family.  Really, it seems so selfish of me.  Yet, then I remember that nothing is ever too big or small for God.  We will never understand why some people are healed and some are not, and honestly I've given up trying to understand.  At the end of the day I accept that God's ways are much higher than my ways and His ultimate goal is that none should perish and all would accept His Son and eternal life.  If my struggle can somehow speak to someone else's situation and draw them closer to God, then it's all worth it in the end.  I won't give up believing that my body is going to be restored, but until then I'll trust that He knows the beginning and the ending.

If you're wondering if I started the Valium; no, I haven't.  I have started the diuretic and I haven't had a true equilibrium issue for five days.  It's hard to tell if that means I'm really better because I've gone six weeks or longer and not had any issues.  Other times I'll be puking two days in a row.  Crazy, isn't it?  Thankfully, in all of this, the love language my husband and I share is humor with a large dose of sarcasm thrown in.  On days that I tell him I can't hear too well (my hearing is impaired when the ringing is loud) his immediate response is "What did you say?"  Ha ha.  The day last fall that he had to come get me from work and I was on the floor of my office wearing a skirt and my knee-high boots puking in a Schnucks bag he said, "How can you be so hot and still be so sick?"  Ha ha again.  I'm thankful he's been my rock through this and I'm thankful for a family who never gives up praying for me.  Mom, I don't think it really matters to God who we are in His kingdom.  His ultimate purpose will always prevail.  Nevertheless, I'll never let go of James 5:16.

I hope if you are facing something that seems insurmountable that you will turn to God and give it to Him.  He's always there.  Just know that He loves you and listen for that still, small voice to give you encouragement.  He's our faithful friend.

School Picture Day

Thursday of this past week was school picture day at Ethan's school.  Oddly enough, Jac had his school picture taken before school even started on 6th grade registration day.  I found it ironic that he had his 6th grade picture taken before he had yet spent one day as an actual 6th grader.  Picture day for Ethan has historically been an "event."  While some kids could care less or spend very little time thinking about what to wear, Ethan is cut from a different cloth.  Pun intended--and by the way--he's cut from my cloth.

Case in point, his school picture from two years ago, in first grade.  A couple days before when I mentioned picture day was coming and suggested he start thinking about what he wanted to wear, he immediately responded, "I already know what I'm wearing."  Now, knowing Ethan as I do, the fact that he had put so much forethought into it already was not surprising but it still gave me a little thrill just knowing he cared so much about it.  On the other hand, I knew that it would be IMPOSSIBLE to talk him out of whatever ensemble he had cooked up in his mind.  He said, "I'm wearing a tie and my sandusky."  I know what you're thinking--at least one of the things that you're thinking.  "What on earth is a sandusky??"  Ethan couldn't remember the word "sport jacket" and so he called it a sandusky.  I knew he had a navy one and a red one in his closet--hand-me-downs that had been given to Jac but that Jac had never quite...appreciated the way Ethan had treasured them.  So, on picture day I made sure he had an appropriate shirt ironed, helped him with his tie and 'sandusky' and told him repeatedly that since it was supposed to be like 90 degrees that day it would be perfectly acceptable to take off his jacket, tie, and even dress shirt if he got too hot.  He was wearing an undershirt under his dress shirt, obviously.  At the same time I was thinking to myself, "His teacher is still forming opinions of her students.  Maybe I should send her a note just to give her some insight into Ethan and his wardrobe selections."  In the end, I didn't.  I just send my first grader off to school with his older brother and a prayer.  The prayer was mainly for his protection as 6-year-olds in sport jackets and ties at the bus stop and on the playground probably have a higher statistical incidence of injury.  Here he is in his carefully selected ensemble.

When they returned home that day I pulled Jac aside and asked him how the other kids reacted at the bus stop.  He said, "Mom, everyone loved it.  They kept telling him how nice he looked and how cool he was dressed."  You see, Jac was as leery as I was of sending Ethan off to school dressed up to this degree, but in regular Ethan fashion, everyone just thought he was cool.  The coolest thing about Ethan is that he wouldn't have cared in the least what anyone said about his outfit.  He dresses for himself and no one else.  If you're wondering, he returned home the same way he left--with his ensemble intact.  He was nearly covered in sweat but he couldn't bear to remove any of the items, even for recess.  He's reprised this outfit over the last couple years for other dress up days at school.

Last year was pretty uneventful but this year had it's own funny moment.  He wore a green and white small checked long-sleeved Polo dress shirt and the first thing he said to me about picture day was, "Mom, you will never guess what they served for lunch today...Bar-B-Q!!  Can you believe it?  Bar-B-Q!!"  He said that Dr. Sefrit, his principal, said, "Well, that wasn't very well thought out."  Giving elementary school students Bar-B-Q on picture day.  I asked Ethan if he had gotten any on his shirt and he said, "No way.  I got the chicken nuggets and dipped them in BBQ sauce but didn't get any on my shirt."  Apparently, his teacher had encouraged all of her students to stay away from the BBQ.  Lindy thought that was pretty funny--the lunch ladies all working furiously to make more chicken nuggets since there would likely be a run on those over the BBQ.  He also said he was a little surprised that there was a kid in his class more dressed up than him.  You see, he's gotten used to being the one who will always be overdressed as opposed to underdressed for whatever occasion presents itself.  I could hear the pride in his voice as he described what the other boy was wearing--kind of like he had a prodigy who now appreciates the finer points of having style and respect for how you present yourself.  This aspect of him is hard to distinguish between whether it comes more from his father or his mother.  I like to think it comes from me but I married Lindy for more than one reason...his ability to dress with the best of them being one of them.

Accessorizing with Attitude

At first glance you might think this post is about wearing your accessories with "attitude."  If that's what you thought--you're right--at least somewhat.  If you are going to wear that outlandish scarf or that chunky, sparkly jewelry or those floral-print shoes then you better wear it, girl!  Don't be afraid to take a risk once in a while.  Don't be timid or apprehensive or make apologies if someone gives you the stink eye.  If you're going to put it on then you better wear it--don't let it wear you.  That's one way to accessorize with attitude.

Not too long ago my husband bought some unusually bold print shirts that are a little out of his comfort zone.  I'm proud of him for branching out, but you have to understand that this is a man who can wear a suit and tie like nobody's business but he's most comfortable in his Levi's and striped polo shirts or some version of blue-striped button down.  Most of the time when he comes home from shopping I'll have something clever to say like, "Well, honey, you absolutely needed another blue striped shirt.  I'm so glad you didn't pass up that bargain."  I'm being sarcastic, of course.  In the hot summertime he feels most comfortable in plaid shorts and a t-shirt in a coordinating color.  He's been on a t-shirt kick this summer searching for shirts that blend nicely with all of his plaid shorts.  Our three boys have jumped on the plaid shorts bandwagon and if you saw us out in the summertime you would likely find the four of them sporting their plaid shorts.  I've learned over time that plaid shorts are not really something I can wear well for reasons I won't mention, but you would find me nicely accessorized, of course.  Anyway--I digress--back to the story of him buying this bold print shirt.  He had it on and he was a little apprehensive about it.  I liked it and I knew he liked it but he was just unsure about wearing it.  So, I said, "Uh uh.  You are not wearing it unless you are going to wear it with pride.  This is a shirt where you will not be able to let it wear you.  You have to own it.  Go big or go home."  This isn't an exact quote because this was several months ago, but you get my drift.  He did wear the shirt with pride, and in turn, I was proud of him for branching out.  It was definitely not blue striped.

I could end my post there with that nice little story about accessorizing with attitude and many of you would say, "Ah, that's just Robin being her Robinesque self always contemplating accessories."  You wouldn't be too far off base there but it isn't really my ultimate point in this post.  More important than wearing that shirt or that jewelry or those shoes is the ultimate accessory that you wear all the time--your attitude.  It's not so much about confidence as it is your outlook on life and the circumstances you face every day.  Each day is filled with decisions and the most important one you will make most days is regarding what kind of attitude you will choose.  I'm not talking about putting on a fake smile when you're really boiling inside.  I'm talking about matters of the heart and choosing to be joyful regardless of what you face each day.  The Bible says, "Rejoice in the Lord ALWAYS and again I say rejoice."

This is something I learned from my parents early on and I'm trying to take those opportunities to instill this valuable quality in my children every chance I get.  When I was a little girl and didn't get my way my Dad would say, "I'm not going to change my mind.  It is the way it is and now you have a decision to make.  You can choose to be miserable the rest of the day or you can choose to be happy.  The choice is up to you."  That's not an exact quote because that was 30 years ago, but you get my drift.  I know that there are some things that we probably thought as children that we wouldn't ever say to our kids, but this is definitely one that I use with my kids.  They get over stuff pretty quick so I don't have to use it very often, but I think that's because Lindy and I have set that expectation for them from early childhood.

The truth is that we are going to face things every day that may not turn out the way we would choose.  Those things may be beyond our control but what isn't beyond our control is our attitude and how we decide to respond to the people and circumstances around us.  If you're a Christ follower I believe we have an even greater responsibility to maintain a heart that is right with Him and an attitude that is a silent witness to those around us who might not know Him.  None of us will ever "arrive" in our relationship with God, but instead, I know He uses every day situations to test us and see what kind of attitude we will choose to wear as our accessory.  Over time I have learned in my own life that when I keep a good attitude the situation may not change but my perspective towards it will.  When I choose the right attitude somehow God will turn the situation around for good and He will help me to see what His plan was all along.  He's cool like that.

So, before you put on that cool glitzy belt or those fantastic royal blue boots or that Mr. T. necklace pause a minute and look on the inside.  What attitude is there that is shining through on the outside?  It might not always be easy, but I know you can do it.  After all it's completely up to you how you Accessorize with Attitude.