Friday, May 7, 2021
How I Lost Over 200 Pounds!
Monday, March 9, 2020
Out of Paper Towels (NOT a COVID 9 post)
*THIS POST IS RATED G for General Thankfulness*
There's an organization, City Team, located in Chester, PA. If you're not local, Chester is a troubled place, located in Delaware County. There's so much crime there that it can't support a grocery store. There'd be too much shoplifting to stay afloat! But they do have a prison. Anyway, City Team runs a soup kitchen and rehabs addicts and ex-cons (etc...) back into the workforce. They're a wonderful operation. Each year, they serve the community with Easter dinners, Thanksgiving meals and the real O.G. fan favorite, Christmas presents and BIKES!
Every December, the most wonderful event of the season is Toy Delivery Day at City Team. Hands down.
This Christmas, my boys and I were standing in a room filled with about 80 people listening to the director give instructions about delivering toys. I usually run into people I know that day. This year I saw a family that we knew from our former school. So nice looking. Always dressed just so. And incredibly well to do.
Orientation ended and we had to get our cars, wait in line to get our route, get packed up, and head out.
I pulled my little 20 year-old Camry into the loading zone. I felt somewhat car-shamed when they motioned me to pull over to the side as "I'd have to wait for a small load...I wouldn't be able to transport a lot." (Most volunteer drivers had minivans, SUVs and pick-up trucks) What? Small load?? NO BIKES??!? I wasn't going to be overshadowed by these Main Line soccer moms. So I --- you guessed it --- SHOWED THEM MY TRUNK. (It's huge.)
While waiting I saw a very shiny, newish, luxury SUV being loaded with bikes. Oh, it was the family we saw in orientation. My boys noticed that their son (just a little older than Levi) was now driving. But wait. The other part of their family was in ANOTHER luxury SUV behind them. (I can't tell you exactly what they were, but one rhymes with Range Rover and the other with Infinity.) My boys were suddenly aware of how wealthy they must really be. After I blotted the drool off of their green faces, I began my sermonette...
"You know boys, those kids were born rich and will die rich. But guess what? They will NEVER KNOW the THRILL of having their needs met in the surprising and amazing ways that God takes care of us..."
A couple of days before, the mailman brought us surprise Christmas gifts; gift cards and some other unexpected presents. Some anonymous. And as usual, the three of us sat down together to thank God for his provisions. And I always take the time to explain how God has promised to take care of our needs. It's an incredible lesson to share with them, and I tell them I NEVER WANT THEM TO FORGET this time in our lives - during our affliction - that God showed Himself strong. I am overwhelmed with gratefulness.
Last week I ventured out to the store for cat food and paper towels. It was nearly midnight. I had been putting it off because I was so broke. I got the cat food but had to put the paper towels back at the register because I was short.
Driving home I cut through the shopping center across the street from where I live. It was almost midnight, so everything was closed. As I drove through the shopping center, I saw something on the sidewalk. What was that? I looked in my rearview mirror and backed up. I thought I saw Bounty? Right on the sidewalk, between the Hallmark store and the Dialysis Center --->>
THRILLING. Serving the Lord and waiting on Him, while not always easy, is THRILLING.
Psalm 105:1-5
Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon his name;
make known his deeds among the peoples!
Sing to him, sing praises to him;
tell of all his wondrous works!
Glory in his holy name;
let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice!
Seek the Lord and his strength;
seek his presence continually!
Remember the wondrous works that he has done,
his miracles
There's an organization, City Team, located in Chester, PA. If you're not local, Chester is a troubled place, located in Delaware County. There's so much crime there that it can't support a grocery store. There'd be too much shoplifting to stay afloat! But they do have a prison. Anyway, City Team runs a soup kitchen and rehabs addicts and ex-cons (etc...) back into the workforce. They're a wonderful operation. Each year, they serve the community with Easter dinners, Thanksgiving meals and the real O.G. fan favorite, Christmas presents and BIKES!
Every December, the most wonderful event of the season is Toy Delivery Day at City Team. Hands down.
This Christmas, my boys and I were standing in a room filled with about 80 people listening to the director give instructions about delivering toys. I usually run into people I know that day. This year I saw a family that we knew from our former school. So nice looking. Always dressed just so. And incredibly well to do.
Orientation ended and we had to get our cars, wait in line to get our route, get packed up, and head out.
I pulled my little 20 year-old Camry into the loading zone. I felt somewhat car-shamed when they motioned me to pull over to the side as "I'd have to wait for a small load...I wouldn't be able to transport a lot." (Most volunteer drivers had minivans, SUVs and pick-up trucks) What? Small load?? NO BIKES??!? I wasn't going to be overshadowed by these Main Line soccer moms. So I --- you guessed it --- SHOWED THEM MY TRUNK. (It's huge.)
While waiting I saw a very shiny, newish, luxury SUV being loaded with bikes. Oh, it was the family we saw in orientation. My boys noticed that their son (just a little older than Levi) was now driving. But wait. The other part of their family was in ANOTHER luxury SUV behind them. (I can't tell you exactly what they were, but one rhymes with Range Rover and the other with Infinity.) My boys were suddenly aware of how wealthy they must really be. After I blotted the drool off of their green faces, I began my sermonette...
"You know boys, those kids were born rich and will die rich. But guess what? They will NEVER KNOW the THRILL of having their needs met in the surprising and amazing ways that God takes care of us..."
A couple of days before, the mailman brought us surprise Christmas gifts; gift cards and some other unexpected presents. Some anonymous. And as usual, the three of us sat down together to thank God for his provisions. And I always take the time to explain how God has promised to take care of our needs. It's an incredible lesson to share with them, and I tell them I NEVER WANT THEM TO FORGET this time in our lives - during our affliction - that God showed Himself strong. I am overwhelmed with gratefulness.
Last week I ventured out to the store for cat food and paper towels. It was nearly midnight. I had been putting it off because I was so broke. I got the cat food but had to put the paper towels back at the register because I was short.
Driving home I cut through the shopping center across the street from where I live. It was almost midnight, so everything was closed. As I drove through the shopping center, I saw something on the sidewalk. What was that? I looked in my rearview mirror and backed up. I thought I saw Bounty? Right on the sidewalk, between the Hallmark store and the Dialysis Center --->>
THRILLING. Serving the Lord and waiting on Him, while not always easy, is THRILLING.
Psalm 105:1-5
Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon his name;
make known his deeds among the peoples!
Sing to him, sing praises to him;
tell of all his wondrous works!
Glory in his holy name;
let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice!
Seek the Lord and his strength;
seek his presence continually!
Remember the wondrous works that he has done,
his miracles
Wednesday, November 27, 2019
Details
THIS POST IS RATED G for General Thankfulness.
There was a store in my former neighborhood, Waterloo Gardens; a Main Line mainstay that employed hundreds over seven decades. It had a wonderful reputation amongst the people in the area. They boasted a nursery, upscale gift shop, fountains and hardscaping, food and houses for wild birds and experts in the field of landscaping to help you select the perfect plantings for your property. I stopped in regularly with my toddlers to tour the outdoor garden fountains during the warmer months. Window shopping there was all I really needed. At Christmastime they were famous for their Christmas Shoppe - complete with model train displays and lights galore. What was that famous miniature, lit villages brand that everyone loved to admire? Department 56 or something? I could only afford Waterloo's ornaments and gift wrap -- and only on December 26th for their post Christmas sale.
It was October, 2017 when we left my childhood home in Havertown; home that had been our sanctuary-city for, what was supposed to be a couple of weeks, but turned into three months. I had to leave many things behind at my marital residence, but God provided, like He always does, through the kindness of others.
One thing I had always longed for in my home was window lights. The warm glow coming from the windowsills always provided a welcoming and safe feeling during the cold months, especially when it became dark so early in the evening. But I had cats and casement windows and children - and was never sure how to secure the lights from being knocked over by one.
Shortly after I moved to my new apartment, I saw an ad on one of the Facebook sites... A woman had a bunch of electric, brass candle lamps for sale. I'm not sure about where you live, but around here, if you don't reply SOLD immediately, it'll be snatched out from under you in the blink of an eye by another shopping neighbor.
I didn't really read the description thoroughly, but in my haste I typed SOLD. Her home was near my King of Prussia church, so that Sunday I made my way over to meet her.
For $20 I walked out with a number of candle sticks; adjustable to be secured by shutting the window on the handle. Perfect! My cats won't knock them down.
There were ten lamps in the set. I was afraid to count the windows in my apartment in my head, so I waited...
I was ecstatic to find I had EXACTLY ten windows in my new apartment!!! I was beside myself. Then I opened the boxes of lamps, and to my delight... O my gracious, they came from my favorite store!?!?!
I realize it sounds silly, but having these candle lights in my windows gives me great hope, assurance and delight. I know God Himself led me to these lights, and I feel loved when they are lit. God, my Savior, is in the details of my life and I love it.
Matt 6:8 “...and your Father knows what you need even before you ask.”
There was a store in my former neighborhood, Waterloo Gardens; a Main Line mainstay that employed hundreds over seven decades. It had a wonderful reputation amongst the people in the area. They boasted a nursery, upscale gift shop, fountains and hardscaping, food and houses for wild birds and experts in the field of landscaping to help you select the perfect plantings for your property. I stopped in regularly with my toddlers to tour the outdoor garden fountains during the warmer months. Window shopping there was all I really needed. At Christmastime they were famous for their Christmas Shoppe - complete with model train displays and lights galore. What was that famous miniature, lit villages brand that everyone loved to admire? Department 56 or something? I could only afford Waterloo's ornaments and gift wrap -- and only on December 26th for their post Christmas sale.
It was October, 2017 when we left my childhood home in Havertown; home that had been our sanctuary-city for, what was supposed to be a couple of weeks, but turned into three months. I had to leave many things behind at my marital residence, but God provided, like He always does, through the kindness of others.
One thing I had always longed for in my home was window lights. The warm glow coming from the windowsills always provided a welcoming and safe feeling during the cold months, especially when it became dark so early in the evening. But I had cats and casement windows and children - and was never sure how to secure the lights from being knocked over by one.
Shortly after I moved to my new apartment, I saw an ad on one of the Facebook sites... A woman had a bunch of electric, brass candle lamps for sale. I'm not sure about where you live, but around here, if you don't reply SOLD immediately, it'll be snatched out from under you in the blink of an eye by another shopping neighbor.
I didn't really read the description thoroughly, but in my haste I typed SOLD. Her home was near my King of Prussia church, so that Sunday I made my way over to meet her.
For $20 I walked out with a number of candle sticks; adjustable to be secured by shutting the window on the handle. Perfect! My cats won't knock them down.
There were ten lamps in the set. I was afraid to count the windows in my apartment in my head, so I waited...
I was ecstatic to find I had EXACTLY ten windows in my new apartment!!! I was beside myself. Then I opened the boxes of lamps, and to my delight... O my gracious, they came from my favorite store!?!?!
I realize it sounds silly, but having these candle lights in my windows gives me great hope, assurance and delight. I know God Himself led me to these lights, and I feel loved when they are lit. God, my Savior, is in the details of my life and I love it.
Matt 6:8 “...and your Father knows what you need even before you ask.”
Saturday, September 21, 2019
The Things I Tried To Save My Marriage
My friend Nancy bought me a beautiful journal, and I've been writing in it of late. I'm not sure writing things down helps me as much as people say it should, but time will tell. When thoughts come flooding in, a keyboard is more my speed, due in part to my carpal tunnel. Writing by hand is sometimes painful.
So here's a list of some of the things I tried in order to save my marriage. They're in no particular order:
1. I entered "Home Makeover" shows thinking that if our broken house was fixed, it would fix our broken home
2. I went to counseling. Ad nauseam.
3. I called Bill Shore, the head of the mens' ministry at our church, and asked him to befriend my friendless husband.
4. I called my girlfriend when I found emails between my husband an his ICU nurse - and my friend's elder husband came and escorted him out of our house, hoping to warn him to get himself in line.
5. I called into Steve Arterburn's NEW LIFE radio talk show at least 6 times for marital advice. One time I waited on hold for the duration of my toddler's 2 hour nap.
6. My husband and I attended a NEW LIFE marriage weekend retreat out of state, paid for by my church. They put us in the category of "last ditch effort" couples needing radical help.
7. I read books like The Five Love Languages and Love & Respect (grrrr Eggerichs!!) and Stormie Omartian's The Power Of A Praying Wife. And countless others.
8. I listened to Focus on the Family EVERY DAY (my kitchen radio was ALWAYS tuned to WBYN.) I'd listen in the morning and during the midnight breastfeeding hours. Dobson was SURE that God wanted all marriages to stay in tact and that was the way a believer honored God. (There was little to no talk about abusive marriages 4-17 years ago.)
9. I wrote to my hero; best selling author and organizational expert, Peter Walsh, thinking that he would have mercy on me and come film a show about de-hoarding at our home. If you remember him (the sharp Aussie from the network TLC show Clean Sweep) you'll know that he was incredibly gifted at explaining to couples how 'loving your belongings more than your spouse would eventually kill your union'. (Ya think?) Yes, he wrote me back twice. He said, "the problem you're having is a communication problem."
10. I attended a 12 step program (AA meetings) (secretly). Steve Arterburn often recommended this if you had a loved one who was an addict. I wasn't sure what my husband was addicted to, but I knew it was likely several things. I thought it would give me a better understanding of how to handle his crazy and cruel behaviors. It didn't save our marriage, but I did lose 48lbs.
11. More counseling.
12. I tried to 'voluntold' my husband to serve at church. He would never agree, but I thought at least maybe parking lot duty would help him get connected?
13. Of course I prayed for him - so did my friends who were so freaking fed up with him.
14. I asked a friend to go with him to the Promise Keepers weekend in Baltimore. Sure enough, he came home with about $80 worth of merchandise. (?)
15. I rented Christian movies like "Fireproof" and we watched it as a family.
16. I enrolled in special Bible Studies at COS like Fireproof, When Life Is Hard, as I was desperate to unlock the key to my neverending problems at home.
17. I studied forgiveness.
18. I threw myself into the reading of God's Word.
19. I ONLY listened to sacred music, hoping that the words of hymns and Christian songs would penetrate my wicked heart.
20. I purchased SAFE EYES; an internet filter so the temptations of the flesh wouldn't be available in my home.
21. I begged for the 800 channels of cable be cut, but...nope.
I'm sure there are more, but MAN --- it was an exhausting existence.
I'm no expert, but I'm reading a lot these days about the terrible advice being given to Christian women about marriage and divorce.
Here are some of the things I was told might help with the state of my marriage:
1. I should probably get a part-time job to get my mind off things and get out of my hate-filled house.
2. I should just start throwing his stuff out (BAD ADVICE... When you mess with an angry hoarder and move their things without their consent, you'd better duck.)
3. I should really focus on meeting his sexual needs.
4. OUR PROBLEM WAS A COMMUNICATION PROBLEM. (WRONG!!!!!!!!!! Don't ever believe this when you're dealing with a narcissistic abuser. There is simply NO COMMUNICATING because they spin and spin and spin the blame.)
And lastly, my favorite...
5. Our marriage is made up of two sinners. Every marriage is. (Edited to add: Someone wrote to me saying she didn't think I was a sinner. I wanted to plainly state, I KNOW I AM A SINNER. I know you are, too. "We have all sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God." (Romans 3:23) My point is when well-meaning Christian counselors point to that obvious declaration to explain why marriage is hard, it muffles the plea of a battered (physical or emotional) spouse to fight for justice in her abusive marriage.
There are TWO types of divorces:
Divorces of boredom or irreconcilable differences (we grew apart, we fell out of love, etc...)
and LIFE SAVING DIVORCES. Be sure you know which one before you (and me!) start judging others.
That's all for today. Thanks for listening.
So here's a list of some of the things I tried in order to save my marriage. They're in no particular order:
1. I entered "Home Makeover" shows thinking that if our broken house was fixed, it would fix our broken home
2. I went to counseling. Ad nauseam.
3. I called Bill Shore, the head of the mens' ministry at our church, and asked him to befriend my friendless husband.
4. I called my girlfriend when I found emails between my husband an his ICU nurse - and my friend's elder husband came and escorted him out of our house, hoping to warn him to get himself in line.
5. I called into Steve Arterburn's NEW LIFE radio talk show at least 6 times for marital advice. One time I waited on hold for the duration of my toddler's 2 hour nap.
6. My husband and I attended a NEW LIFE marriage weekend retreat out of state, paid for by my church. They put us in the category of "last ditch effort" couples needing radical help.
7. I read books like The Five Love Languages and Love & Respect (grrrr Eggerichs!!) and Stormie Omartian's The Power Of A Praying Wife. And countless others.
8. I listened to Focus on the Family EVERY DAY (my kitchen radio was ALWAYS tuned to WBYN.) I'd listen in the morning and during the midnight breastfeeding hours. Dobson was SURE that God wanted all marriages to stay in tact and that was the way a believer honored God. (There was little to no talk about abusive marriages 4-17 years ago.)
9. I wrote to my hero; best selling author and organizational expert, Peter Walsh, thinking that he would have mercy on me and come film a show about de-hoarding at our home. If you remember him (the sharp Aussie from the network TLC show Clean Sweep) you'll know that he was incredibly gifted at explaining to couples how 'loving your belongings more than your spouse would eventually kill your union'. (Ya think?) Yes, he wrote me back twice. He said, "the problem you're having is a communication problem."
10. I attended a 12 step program (AA meetings) (secretly). Steve Arterburn often recommended this if you had a loved one who was an addict. I wasn't sure what my husband was addicted to, but I knew it was likely several things. I thought it would give me a better understanding of how to handle his crazy and cruel behaviors. It didn't save our marriage, but I did lose 48lbs.
11. More counseling.
12. I tried to 'voluntold' my husband to serve at church. He would never agree, but I thought at least maybe parking lot duty would help him get connected?
13. Of course I prayed for him - so did my friends who were so freaking fed up with him.
14. I asked a friend to go with him to the Promise Keepers weekend in Baltimore. Sure enough, he came home with about $80 worth of merchandise. (?)
15. I rented Christian movies like "Fireproof" and we watched it as a family.
16. I enrolled in special Bible Studies at COS like Fireproof, When Life Is Hard, as I was desperate to unlock the key to my neverending problems at home.
17. I studied forgiveness.
18. I threw myself into the reading of God's Word.
19. I ONLY listened to sacred music, hoping that the words of hymns and Christian songs would penetrate my wicked heart.
20. I purchased SAFE EYES; an internet filter so the temptations of the flesh wouldn't be available in my home.
21. I begged for the 800 channels of cable be cut, but...nope.
I'm sure there are more, but MAN --- it was an exhausting existence.
I'm no expert, but I'm reading a lot these days about the terrible advice being given to Christian women about marriage and divorce.
Here are some of the things I was told might help with the state of my marriage:
1. I should probably get a part-time job to get my mind off things and get out of my hate-filled house.
2. I should just start throwing his stuff out (BAD ADVICE... When you mess with an angry hoarder and move their things without their consent, you'd better duck.)
3. I should really focus on meeting his sexual needs.
4. OUR PROBLEM WAS A COMMUNICATION PROBLEM. (WRONG!!!!!!!!!! Don't ever believe this when you're dealing with a narcissistic abuser. There is simply NO COMMUNICATING because they spin and spin and spin the blame.)
And lastly, my favorite...
5. Our marriage is made up of two sinners. Every marriage is. (Edited to add: Someone wrote to me saying she didn't think I was a sinner. I wanted to plainly state, I KNOW I AM A SINNER. I know you are, too. "We have all sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God." (Romans 3:23) My point is when well-meaning Christian counselors point to that obvious declaration to explain why marriage is hard, it muffles the plea of a battered (physical or emotional) spouse to fight for justice in her abusive marriage.
There are TWO types of divorces:
Divorces of boredom or irreconcilable differences (we grew apart, we fell out of love, etc...)
and LIFE SAVING DIVORCES. Be sure you know which one before you (and me!) start judging others.
That's all for today. Thanks for listening.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
A Call to Christian Parents of Fortnite
Keeping my boys from video games lasted a long, long time. Until a day last year when their father took them to buy an XBOX.
In an effort to keep some sort of peace, I allowed them to transport their XBOX console to my house when they are with me. This has been one of my biggest mistakes.
But this post is not about divorcing Fortnite. (As soon as I figure that out, my readers will certainly be the first to know.)
After prayer, and in an effort to take back my boys, and shelter them under the wings of our great God, we as a family have resumed Scripture reading, prayer and time with the Lord in the morning - like we did when we were homeschooling. This sadly petered out of our daily routine when organized school began and I was treading water just to stay afloat after fleeing my home.
Like many of you, I felt ill-equipped because most of my homeschool material, books, devotionals still remain at my former coordinates and I didn't know where to start. Until recently I read that just reading them the living Word of God is good enough. Not just good enough, E N O U G H.
Today's call is regarding the "skins" used by boys in Fornite. (The skins are the characters/outfits the players choose and from what I've learned, some BUY the skins as an upgrade.)
While watching my boys play, I noticed their skins were female?! I immediately remarked about this and my 13yo said, "...everybody does it, because they're better than the male skins."
I chewed on that for a moment.
This is how it starts. An innocent game, used by the enemy to blur the lines and pervert the nature of who God made my boys to be. PERIOD. That's it.
NOT IN MY HOUSE. Either you use a male skin, or you're not playing.
If we don’t teach our children to follow Christ, the world will teach them not to, for “the whole world lies in wickedness” (1 John 5:19)
"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." (Proverbs 22:6)
"Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up." (Deuteronomy 11:19)
"A woman must not wear men’s clothing, and a man must not wear women’s clothing, for whoever does these things is detestable to the LORD your God." (Deuteronomy 22:5)
Parents, I'm asking you to join me. PRAY ABOUT THIS and see if God calls you into action. And may God bless you as you shepherd your flock.
In an effort to keep some sort of peace, I allowed them to transport their XBOX console to my house when they are with me. This has been one of my biggest mistakes.
But this post is not about divorcing Fortnite. (As soon as I figure that out, my readers will certainly be the first to know.)
After prayer, and in an effort to take back my boys, and shelter them under the wings of our great God, we as a family have resumed Scripture reading, prayer and time with the Lord in the morning - like we did when we were homeschooling. This sadly petered out of our daily routine when organized school began and I was treading water just to stay afloat after fleeing my home.
Like many of you, I felt ill-equipped because most of my homeschool material, books, devotionals still remain at my former coordinates and I didn't know where to start. Until recently I read that just reading them the living Word of God is good enough. Not just good enough, E N O U G H.
Today's call is regarding the "skins" used by boys in Fornite. (The skins are the characters/outfits the players choose and from what I've learned, some BUY the skins as an upgrade.)
While watching my boys play, I noticed their skins were female?! I immediately remarked about this and my 13yo said, "...everybody does it, because they're better than the male skins."
I chewed on that for a moment.
This is how it starts. An innocent game, used by the enemy to blur the lines and pervert the nature of who God made my boys to be. PERIOD. That's it.
NOT IN MY HOUSE. Either you use a male skin, or you're not playing.
If we don’t teach our children to follow Christ, the world will teach them not to, for “the whole world lies in wickedness” (1 John 5:19)
"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." (Proverbs 22:6)
"Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up." (Deuteronomy 11:19)
"A woman must not wear men’s clothing, and a man must not wear women’s clothing, for whoever does these things is detestable to the LORD your God." (Deuteronomy 22:5)
Parents, I'm asking you to join me. PRAY ABOUT THIS and see if God calls you into action. And may God bless you as you shepherd your flock.
Monday, December 31, 2018
My Chronic Illness
While many of my musings have been of a humorous nature, I warn my readers that this post is Rated PG. (Personal Groanings).
It's New Year's Weave, er I mean Eve. Everywhere people are examining their lives (while in the queue at the ABC store), planning ways to make the next year "better". Come on, we're all familiar; eating smarter, exercising regularly, making time to be present (oh lawd, I hate that), juicing more, learning to love cauliflower pizza dough (gross) and as my friend and Pastor likes to joke, responsibly recycling. Doing these things will SHA-ZAM. Make your life better.
I've been in my darling apartment for nearly 15 months. I've seen God perform innumerable miracles in my life - you wouldn't BELIEVE. A free Camry! 4 jobs! (2 of which are within .5 miles from my home) friends upon friends upon friends giving, helping, giving, giving, giving.
So why am I so blue?
A friend read my mind recently. "It's scarier now, I'm sure...", she said. Yep. The adrenaline from fleeing in haste has waned, the dust has settled, the rigors of moving things, setting up my home have lessened.
I know the end of my story and I know I have hell-defeating hope. I also know my Redeemer can be trusted and I know the purpose of my life. That right there should be enough, I know it should. But the getting there...in the natural it feels very, very hard.
People have said and have assumed, "...but I'm so glad you're HAPPIER now. You DESERVE to be happy."
THANK YOU SO MUCH. But you're wrong.
I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve any such thing. (I'll explain. God's Word tells me I'm a sinner and I deserve death. (Ecclesiastes 7, Romans 3) But wait! ---> That's not the end. ---> There is hope for those who put their trust in the saving knowledge of Christ Jesus.)
And I'm NOT happier now, but I understand how you can think that way.
I'm SAFER now. So that's important. But as long as my #1 earthly enemy still waits for me on the other end of my mobile device, I'm going to have a toothache in my knee, a migraine in my foot and a thorn in my flesh.
The texts, the constant manipulations, the selfish ambitions, the twisting of truths; no court order can protect me from that. This is my new reality. Sure it's different from before, but now I'm faced with the forever fact that until my boys are men, this is my diagnosis; my chronic illness.
I'm in anguish because a punk of a father, who "worked" until midnight every night and only saw his children but on the weekends now takes my boys away from me fifty percent of the time. I went from a stay at home mother, deeply devoted to the raising of my children, who saw them at every waking moment to now...in my apartment on New Year's Eve with America's Test Kitchen on PBS. (And no, my children were not my idol. I just took my job very seriously.)
So what does God say about this?
This is what the Lord says - he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters. "FORGET THE FORMER THINGS, DO NOT DWELL ON THE PAST. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; DO YOU NOT PERCEIVE IT? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." Isaiah 43: 16, 18-19 NIV
And He who was seated on the throne said, "Behold I am making all things new..." Revelation 21:5 NIV
I get it, Lord. I want to put my trust in You. I want to have unshakable joy, immutable faith. May Your will be done in my life.
Now, let's party! :(
It's New Year's Weave, er I mean Eve. Everywhere people are examining their lives (while in the queue at the ABC store), planning ways to make the next year "better". Come on, we're all familiar; eating smarter, exercising regularly, making time to be present (oh lawd, I hate that), juicing more, learning to love cauliflower pizza dough (gross) and as my friend and Pastor likes to joke, responsibly recycling. Doing these things will SHA-ZAM. Make your life better.
I've been in my darling apartment for nearly 15 months. I've seen God perform innumerable miracles in my life - you wouldn't BELIEVE. A free Camry! 4 jobs! (2 of which are within .5 miles from my home) friends upon friends upon friends giving, helping, giving, giving, giving.
So why am I so blue?
A friend read my mind recently. "It's scarier now, I'm sure...", she said. Yep. The adrenaline from fleeing in haste has waned, the dust has settled, the rigors of moving things, setting up my home have lessened.
I know the end of my story and I know I have hell-defeating hope. I also know my Redeemer can be trusted and I know the purpose of my life. That right there should be enough, I know it should. But the getting there...in the natural it feels very, very hard.
People have said and have assumed, "...but I'm so glad you're HAPPIER now. You DESERVE to be happy."
THANK YOU SO MUCH. But you're wrong.
I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve any such thing. (I'll explain. God's Word tells me I'm a sinner and I deserve death. (Ecclesiastes 7, Romans 3) But wait! ---> That's not the end. ---> There is hope for those who put their trust in the saving knowledge of Christ Jesus.)
And I'm NOT happier now, but I understand how you can think that way.
I'm SAFER now. So that's important. But as long as my #1 earthly enemy still waits for me on the other end of my mobile device, I'm going to have a toothache in my knee, a migraine in my foot and a thorn in my flesh.
The texts, the constant manipulations, the selfish ambitions, the twisting of truths; no court order can protect me from that. This is my new reality. Sure it's different from before, but now I'm faced with the forever fact that until my boys are men, this is my diagnosis; my chronic illness.
I'm in anguish because a punk of a father, who "worked" until midnight every night and only saw his children but on the weekends now takes my boys away from me fifty percent of the time. I went from a stay at home mother, deeply devoted to the raising of my children, who saw them at every waking moment to now...in my apartment on New Year's Eve with America's Test Kitchen on PBS. (And no, my children were not my idol. I just took my job very seriously.)
So what does God say about this?
This is what the Lord says - he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters. "FORGET THE FORMER THINGS, DO NOT DWELL ON THE PAST. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; DO YOU NOT PERCEIVE IT? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." Isaiah 43: 16, 18-19 NIV
And He who was seated on the throne said, "Behold I am making all things new..." Revelation 21:5 NIV
I get it, Lord. I want to put my trust in You. I want to have unshakable joy, immutable faith. May Your will be done in my life.
Now, let's party! :(
Monday, August 6, 2018
Pain Swapping
There are some things that people never tell you or I guess you never know until it looks you square in the face.
When I left my situation to escape all the things I'm not allowed to identify here (or now - maybe someday) there was instant relief from the ugly surroundings I had become so accustomed to.
What nobody prepared me for is that my parenting time would be brutally torn in half.
For the last nine years I had been used to being with my boys constantly. I worked as a homemaker, and the last two years, we homeschooled. Their father "worked"/didn't come home until after midnight every week night. I operated like a single parent in lots of ways.
But I loved it.
Homeschool especially gave us the chance to slow down our lives in a Google Calendar based culture.
We took field trips, read aloud, explored outside, had picnics, we offered rides to people with brain injuries, we stayed out late during baseball season, we served others in the name of the Lord. What a wonderfully enriching time the three of us spent together. I thank God.
Now I'm reduced to seeing my children that I carried each for 41 weeks, nursed for their first year, taught them to eat, walk, use the toilet, pray, read... Now I'm reduced to seeing them two days a week and every other weekend.
Every time I'm alone in this house I curse the reason I'm here.
I can't tuck them in.
Read to them every night before bed.
Sing them a hymn.
Hold them while they're fresh from the shower.
Hear them laugh together.
Play Sleeping Queens.
THIS ENRAGES ME - and as I type I ruin three coats of mascara. Again.
THIS IS NOT RIGHT GOD!
It seems like all I did was swap out one pain for another.
I wonder...if it's worth it.
When I left my situation to escape all the things I'm not allowed to identify here (or now - maybe someday) there was instant relief from the ugly surroundings I had become so accustomed to.
What nobody prepared me for is that my parenting time would be brutally torn in half.
For the last nine years I had been used to being with my boys constantly. I worked as a homemaker, and the last two years, we homeschooled. Their father "worked"/didn't come home until after midnight every week night. I operated like a single parent in lots of ways.
But I loved it.
Homeschool especially gave us the chance to slow down our lives in a Google Calendar based culture.
We took field trips, read aloud, explored outside, had picnics, we offered rides to people with brain injuries, we stayed out late during baseball season, we served others in the name of the Lord. What a wonderfully enriching time the three of us spent together. I thank God.
Now I'm reduced to seeing my children that I carried each for 41 weeks, nursed for their first year, taught them to eat, walk, use the toilet, pray, read... Now I'm reduced to seeing them two days a week and every other weekend.
Every time I'm alone in this house I curse the reason I'm here.
I can't tuck them in.
Read to them every night before bed.
Sing them a hymn.
Hold them while they're fresh from the shower.
Hear them laugh together.
Play Sleeping Queens.
THIS ENRAGES ME - and as I type I ruin three coats of mascara. Again.
THIS IS NOT RIGHT GOD!
It seems like all I did was swap out one pain for another.
I wonder...if it's worth it.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Alone at last
If I'm honest with you, which I always am... [My dad always says, "The truth is the only thing I tell. I have no reason to lie."] ...I would tell you that I've been feeling a little sorry for myself as of late.
I have a friend who shall remain nameless (rhymes with jacuzzi) who dates almost weekly. If not more. Lots of men want to get to know her, take her out, make her feel special. I think I'm jealous of that.
I mean, wouldn't it be nice to have somebody fairly normal (and not incarcerated) call me up and say, "Hey. I think you're neat. Let's eat!" (Ok. Nevermind. I would never date a dork like that. Alright, maybe I would if his name were Buddy the Elf.) Someone to appreciate my wit, my smarts, my convictions, my loving heart.
But let's face it, unless a guy is going to buy the whole, "I'm putting on weight for a movie role", I guess a date isn't happening anytime soon.
Isn't it awful that we're judged by what's on the outside first? What was that movie, Shallow Hal?
I mean, I guess it works in favor of super models (I can name two dozen that are my friends), but for those of us who are unfortunate looking...
But this morning at church, two separate girlfriends surprised me with gifts, and I almost fell apart.
One handed me a very valuable sterling silver (my fav!) butterfly wing pendant. It's gorgeous and from one of my favorite stores, "Dandelion" which always reminds me of love. (A doctor I worked for regularly bought his wife gifts there, and they are and will forever been so in love.)
The colors are exquisite and for some reason, the butterfly instantly took on personal symbolism for me. We squealed, I held her in my arms then I kissed her cheek. It was practically a date, I guess.
The second surprise came in the parking lot as I was leaving church. A lovely lady reached in my car and handed me a velvet ring box. My eyes shot wide open. She said, "Don't get excited", but it was TOO LATE. I opened it up and SCREAMED, SCREAMED AND SCREAMED.
She remembered a remark I made about loving her silicone ring and...now I have my own in gray. I put it on and I said to her (this is true), "I DO!" (She laughed.) So I had a date and then got engaged. All in a matter of 2 hours. What am I complaining about?
Lord, thank you for my dear sisters who have shown me love in this way today. And I'm blessed because of you, Shana and Courtney. xoxo
I have a friend who shall remain nameless (rhymes with jacuzzi) who dates almost weekly. If not more. Lots of men want to get to know her, take her out, make her feel special. I think I'm jealous of that.
I mean, wouldn't it be nice to have somebody fairly normal (and not incarcerated) call me up and say, "Hey. I think you're neat. Let's eat!" (Ok. Nevermind. I would never date a dork like that. Alright, maybe I would if his name were Buddy the Elf.) Someone to appreciate my wit, my smarts, my convictions, my loving heart.
But let's face it, unless a guy is going to buy the whole, "I'm putting on weight for a movie role", I guess a date isn't happening anytime soon.
Isn't it awful that we're judged by what's on the outside first? What was that movie, Shallow Hal?
I mean, I guess it works in favor of super models (I can name two dozen that are my friends), but for those of us who are unfortunate looking...
But this morning at church, two separate girlfriends surprised me with gifts, and I almost fell apart.
One handed me a very valuable sterling silver (my fav!) butterfly wing pendant. It's gorgeous and from one of my favorite stores, "Dandelion" which always reminds me of love. (A doctor I worked for regularly bought his wife gifts there, and they are and will forever been so in love.)
The colors are exquisite and for some reason, the butterfly instantly took on personal symbolism for me. We squealed, I held her in my arms then I kissed her cheek. It was practically a date, I guess.
The second surprise came in the parking lot as I was leaving church. A lovely lady reached in my car and handed me a velvet ring box. My eyes shot wide open. She said, "Don't get excited", but it was TOO LATE. I opened it up and SCREAMED, SCREAMED AND SCREAMED.
She remembered a remark I made about loving her silicone ring and...now I have my own in gray. I put it on and I said to her (this is true), "I DO!" (She laughed.) So I had a date and then got engaged. All in a matter of 2 hours. What am I complaining about?
Lord, thank you for my dear sisters who have shown me love in this way today. And I'm blessed because of you, Shana and Courtney. xoxo
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
What the Whole Foods!?!?!
Hello readers!
Some of you have heard me say I'm not really permitted to blog [details] these days. But there are so many fun things to report. So until my book is published, I'll have to share pleasantries and bon mots in this abbreviated, limited format.
Today's hilarious episode starts with an email.
I've been anxiously trying to secure a PT job at Whole Foods Market. Given my highly decorated days as a PathMark cashier in the 80's (high school, people)...they awarded us pins, "flare", in recognition of speedy service to decorate your apron. I had BLING. I mean people would stand in queue for me to wait on them! (Ha. Did you get that?)
And my most recent, impressive title as Cafeteria Manager (read: lunch lady) at our little school, I boastfully counted myself a shoe in.
Until a few days ago.
"Dear Cashier Applicant,
Thank you for applying to Whole Foods Market........we're going to go with a more qualified applicant..."
Huh? No interview? No phone call? How am I supposed to dazzle you with my charming disposition over the interwebs?
Something's wrong here.
I blame Russia.
What could it have been? Ya know, I was probably going up against a career cashier with faster, more accurate double-bagging skills.
But I knew I wasn't going to worry. God had another plan.
Today I got a text. This is exactly how it went down.
(MY FRIEND IS M:
I'LL BE S:)
M: How long is your plumbing gig? We need a temp summer receptionist (full time)
S: Whaaaat? Woah. It ends this Fri. What happened to your girl?
M: Are you interested?
S: Sure!
M: You're hired!
That was the BEST INTERVIEW I NEVER HAD. I didn't even have to brush my teeth.
I will tell everyone I know (and don't know yet) of God's great love for His children. And how He is keeping His promises to take care of me.
Some of you have heard me say I'm not really permitted to blog [details] these days. But there are so many fun things to report. So until my book is published, I'll have to share pleasantries and bon mots in this abbreviated, limited format.
Today's hilarious episode starts with an email.
I've been anxiously trying to secure a PT job at Whole Foods Market. Given my highly decorated days as a PathMark cashier in the 80's (high school, people)...they awarded us pins, "flare", in recognition of speedy service to decorate your apron. I had BLING. I mean people would stand in queue for me to wait on them! (Ha. Did you get that?)
And my most recent, impressive title as Cafeteria Manager (read: lunch lady) at our little school, I boastfully counted myself a shoe in.
Until a few days ago.
"Dear Cashier Applicant,
Thank you for applying to Whole Foods Market........we're going to go with a more qualified applicant..."
Huh? No interview? No phone call? How am I supposed to dazzle you with my charming disposition over the interwebs?
Something's wrong here.
I blame Russia.
What could it have been? Ya know, I was probably going up against a career cashier with faster, more accurate double-bagging skills.
But I knew I wasn't going to worry. God had another plan.
Today I got a text. This is exactly how it went down.
(MY FRIEND IS M:
I'LL BE S:)
M: How long is your plumbing gig? We need a temp summer receptionist (full time)
S: Whaaaat? Woah. It ends this Fri. What happened to your girl?
M: Are you interested?
S: Sure!
M: You're hired!
That was the BEST INTERVIEW I NEVER HAD. I didn't even have to brush my teeth.
I will tell everyone I know (and don't know yet) of God's great love for His children. And how He is keeping His promises to take care of me.
Tuesday, May 15, 2018
Don't Waste Your Pain (Advice To My Sisters in Christ)
Dear sister in limbo,
Don't be like me. Please don't believe that your life in Christ cannot matter as much (as you were taught) or be as full because your picture looks different. Don't believe your impact cannot be strong. Don't believe that the judgement of others will overshadow your witness.
What I've learned over the last year is that God can take my pain, my heartache, my situation (Fine. I'll say it. My divorce.) and use me anyway.
For a long, long time I believed that I had to belong to a traditional family, have an Olan Mills church directory portrait gracing my family room wall, check off the married box when completing important paperwork in order to be a true, bonafide and effective child of God.
I was wrong about so many things. I made poor choices. I listened to the wrong ideas.
Finally, God used an army of strong men and women to help me see. And through them, God ushered me out of a desperate existence into a beautiful, meaningful, fulfilling life in Him.
I can finally say with great gladness that I realize I can still be used of God, be valued and revered as one who has survived much, be a voice, use my experience, point others to Jesus, love others that hurt, return the compliment to those in need, help to win souls, and mostly importantly not waste my pain as a formerly married woman.
I CAN raise healthy boys.
I WON'T ruin my children for life (because let's face it, I'm not that powerful.)
I CAN teach them to love and follow the Lord.
I CAN have real joy.
I CAN enjoy abiding peace.
I AM IMPORTANT to the Body of Christ.
Thank you, God, for lovingly teaching me by your grace and the power of the Holy Spirit, how awesome You are and that despite my innumerable flaws, I am worthy.
Don't be like me. Please don't believe that your life in Christ cannot matter as much (as you were taught) or be as full because your picture looks different. Don't believe your impact cannot be strong. Don't believe that the judgement of others will overshadow your witness.
What I've learned over the last year is that God can take my pain, my heartache, my situation (Fine. I'll say it. My divorce.) and use me anyway.
For a long, long time I believed that I had to belong to a traditional family, have an Olan Mills church directory portrait gracing my family room wall, check off the married box when completing important paperwork in order to be a true, bonafide and effective child of God.
I was wrong about so many things. I made poor choices. I listened to the wrong ideas.
Finally, God used an army of strong men and women to help me see. And through them, God ushered me out of a desperate existence into a beautiful, meaningful, fulfilling life in Him.
I can finally say with great gladness that I realize I can still be used of God, be valued and revered as one who has survived much, be a voice, use my experience, point others to Jesus, love others that hurt, return the compliment to those in need, help to win souls, and mostly importantly not waste my pain as a formerly married woman.
I CAN raise healthy boys.
I WON'T ruin my children for life (because let's face it, I'm not that powerful.)
I CAN teach them to love and follow the Lord.
I CAN have real joy.
I CAN enjoy abiding peace.
I AM IMPORTANT to the Body of Christ.
Thank you, God, for lovingly teaching me by your grace and the power of the Holy Spirit, how awesome You are and that despite my innumerable flaws, I am worthy.
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Confession and news
In 2000, my childhood music idol, Amy Grant, married Vince Gill. That was the same year I was married!! I remember pouring over her wedding photos while I was planning ours trying to get ideas. I think I even had some of her magazine clippings in my 3-ring bridal binder. #whatanerd
Her hair was so delicately done up with tiny white flowers and her soft brown curls were pinned back so perfectly, but for a few wisps that gently fell around her face.
How stunning. Should I try that? Nah. Probably not a look compatible with an autumn wedding.
But wait a minute. Should I even be trying to emulate her look? I mean, after all, she's divorced. AND she's remarrying!?
How horrific. What a disgrace to Christian music. What a disgrace to the Church. HOW COULD SHE? And how dare she do this to her children! I should probably put this magazine away.
I see my judgemental heart and I'm so ashamed. I always called myself a "black & white thinker", which in many ways has served me well. But what was it really?
Judgement. I'm so good at evaluating sin in others.
Now after nearly 17 years, and running the risk of sounding like another one of my idols, Lysa TerKeurst, my own marriage is coming to an end. So much pain and anguish have led up to this point, but much of the pain is hurt I now feel for women who have suffered similarly.
Growing up with grandparents who were married over 70 years, parents still married after 58 and two sisters whose marriages are in tact, I feel like a big, fat statistic.
How many years did James Dobson speak to me through my kitchen radio, "...divorce is like cancer to children..." and "...Christian families are under attack. Don't let the enemy win!"?
I am comforted by the Scriptures knowing that our merciful God has made concessions for divorce in specific circumstances, and I'm so grateful for my church and my Pastors and elders at Harvest Philly who are standing with me.
And of course my faith-filled parents, my family and my friends... I have what feels like an army of supporters.
Even still, this hurts so bad.
Please pray for us. Please pray for my children. And of course, please pray for Paul.
Her hair was so delicately done up with tiny white flowers and her soft brown curls were pinned back so perfectly, but for a few wisps that gently fell around her face.
How stunning. Should I try that? Nah. Probably not a look compatible with an autumn wedding.
But wait a minute. Should I even be trying to emulate her look? I mean, after all, she's divorced. AND she's remarrying!?
How horrific. What a disgrace to Christian music. What a disgrace to the Church. HOW COULD SHE? And how dare she do this to her children! I should probably put this magazine away.
I see my judgemental heart and I'm so ashamed. I always called myself a "black & white thinker", which in many ways has served me well. But what was it really?
Judgement. I'm so good at evaluating sin in others.
Now after nearly 17 years, and running the risk of sounding like another one of my idols, Lysa TerKeurst, my own marriage is coming to an end. So much pain and anguish have led up to this point, but much of the pain is hurt I now feel for women who have suffered similarly.
Growing up with grandparents who were married over 70 years, parents still married after 58 and two sisters whose marriages are in tact, I feel like a big, fat statistic.
How many years did James Dobson speak to me through my kitchen radio, "...divorce is like cancer to children..." and "...Christian families are under attack. Don't let the enemy win!"?
I am comforted by the Scriptures knowing that our merciful God has made concessions for divorce in specific circumstances, and I'm so grateful for my church and my Pastors and elders at Harvest Philly who are standing with me.
And of course my faith-filled parents, my family and my friends... I have what feels like an army of supporters.
Even still, this hurts so bad.
Please pray for us. Please pray for my children. And of course, please pray for Paul.
Saturday, April 22, 2017
AN OPEN LETTER TO ALL FACEBOOK GROUP ADMINS (this is a long one)
What the beans is an open letter anyway? Isn't anything you publish or write that's written open? Who knows. I just wanted to be like all the other cool kids by writing my own open letter.
Since the beginning of Facebook, millions of people have enjoyed certain groups created for like minded people to share thoughts, sell things, help neighbors, buy stuff, post silly puppy videos, relive memories, etc... I personally have joined many groups and even started some of my own.
So, given the fact that Facebook is a means to facilitate social interaction, can someone please explain to me the phenomenon that equates Facebook Group Admins with bullies? Good gracious, I have never seen such an unfortunate group of people with such profoundly inflated senses of self. What's wrong? Do I sound mad?
Here's what happened.
In an effort to make some money and begin living a life of minimalism (tricky because my mate is a maximalist)I have joined the big, scary world of eBay selling.
And being self-aware of the need for coaching in this area, I joined a FB group -- a support group of sorts for eBay sellers. This particular group had probably 12k members and was very active. How helpful it was to be able to lean on other sellers for advice and input and what a great way to learn.
I noticed that in almost every post however (questions about shipping, packing, airing grievances about low-bidders, etc...)the commenting option was shut off and hence read, "Commenting Has Been Turned Off". Hmmm. That was strange. Did someone say something offensive? I looked again. Not that I could see! Again, another post about "...what do you think would be the value of this...?" I wanted to leave a comment about something that I'd seen that was similar, but again - the commenting was turned off and wouldn't permit any more input.
After noticing about 8 or 10 instances of this, I started to become annoyed. I sent a private message to the Admin which read:
"Hi! I'm new to the eBay group.
I'm just wondering why you are so quick to turn off commenting? I'm a member of many groups, and admin three of my own. Why so heavy handed? What's the harm in allowing a benign conversation to continue?? If it's a friendly exchange, why interfere?
Thanks!"
I waited a couple days to see what her response to me would be. Certainly she would answer me. Or would she? Maybe she'd blast me. I was preparing myself for the worst. I looked at the FB message screen and didn't see any evidence that she had yet read my message. (When you message someone with whom you have no connection, the message hides in an "other" folder that you have to purposely look for. It doesn't automatically notify you.)
I searched for the group so I could post a query. Where was the group? Wait a minute. What? She deleted me?? For what??? For an innocent question?
I don't mind telling you, this infuriates me. This is not the first FB Admin I've encountered with an inflated sense of self. What in the world would possess these admins to rush to hit the block button?? Did they train under Nero? Did they grow up going to summer camp for Spartans? Do they dip their insubordinate members in wax and burn them at the stakes in the palace garden?? Watch it! One wrong move and you're TOAST! GIVE ME A BLEEPIN BREAK. Where's the humanity? The tolerance? The grace? Just answer a question, for goodness sake!
For almost this reason alone, I started a group of my own. Unlike some of the other groups I run, I wanted to create this group for the EXPRESSED PURPOSE OF BEING THE MOST LOVING, MOST PERMISSIVE, MOST GENEROUS Admin there ever was. (You might think this is dramatic, right. ;) )
This Nation of ours is under attack. We are divided over politics, faith, the fate of the ACA. WHY would someone, a supposed adult, choose to behave this way?
If you're still reading, God bless you. You're quite the patient friend.
So that all happened a couple weeks ago. THIS NEXT STORY JUST HAPPENED DAYS AGO.
Along with my eBay selling, I'm pretty actively involved in FB Yardsale groups. But some of my favorite groups got too big and that lead to people not following through, "Passing" a lot more, etc... It became a headache.
So with my PayPal account, a printer and some cute poly mailers, I can ship things from home! So that's what I do now. It's easy and fun and I'm quite good at it!
This last week I posted 2 pairs of my boys' shorts on an Under Armour page. A very active page for which I was so grateful; I'm able to sell a lot quickly. The shorts? 1 pair of Under Armour, the other Nike. I sold both within an hour.
Later I went back to check something and couldn't find the group. Huh? I just sold something. Where did they go? Was I blocked? Are you kidding? Turns out Nike products are not permitted and they have a no-tolerance policy, so I got the boot. And not only the boot, but blocked - which means I can't even SEE the group should I choose to look it up. No tolerance. No warning. I'm a friendly seller. I post nice pictures, good descriptions. Fair prices. I'm honest. But so long! I've been vaporized.
I wrote to the admin of the group to see why I had been ejected, she didn't read my message, but her underling did. I explained how sorry I was. It was an honest mistake. I'm a part of many groups and I forgot that THAT was the group that didn't permit Nike. I also explained that I was very compliant, obedient and would never deliberately defy the rules.
She said the rules were strict, she couldn't reinstate me but would be "happy to add me to two other similar groups". Ok. I thanked her very much.
I enjoyed immediate selling success in this new group that permitted mostly all name brands. But I tread very carefully because I noticed that this new admin was carefully policing a lot of posts; adding her unsolicited opinion here and there.
In this group I answered someone's question using FB's reply feature. (If you know FB you know the reply feature.) In the post (of the shorts I was selling) the admin wrote just moments later, "USING REPLY IS FORBIDDEN IN THIS GROUP. I CANNOT GIVE ANOTHER WARNING."
Another warning? I just joined a few hours ago? OK. Sorry. The reply feature is sorta' automatic for FB users, anymore. But Ok. I'll be more careful.
(Reader, are you still there? I know this is boring. I'm boring myself!)
I found a shirt to fit my son - it was the right size and would fit my husky boy. The seller's original price was $13.50. But she had written in the comments that it was now reduced to $13. I wrote sold, gave my email address but when the invoice came through PayPal, it said, $13.50.
I wrote within the post, "Sally, I'm so sorry, I realize this is petty, but you invoiced me for more than the asking price." I waited a few days for a reply. But instead of hearing from the seller, enter the friendly admin...
"I have read all the edits and it was indeed $13.50."
No. I pointed out the date stamp of the $13 price adjustment and took a screen shot and said, "At 7:20p, she wrote $13." (It was right there!!)
Admin: "It's petty to squabble over $.50. It was obviously an honest mistake. People make honest mistakes all the time."
(Did you hear that? Then how come I wasn't extended the same grace?)
I then wrote, "But when *I* make an honest mistake??" "I'll gladly pay the invoice now. Thanks for your gracious understanding."
I went back to find the post so I could notify the seller but I couldn't locate it. Couldn't find the group. Couldn't find anything. SHE EXPELLED ME FROM THE GROUP?
I immediately messaged the admin, "WHAT in the WORLD??".....then, "I'm sorry, this recipient is not available...." SHE BLOCKED ME, so I can no longer message her, find the group, buy or sell my things.
I AM OUTRAGED. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE WHO BEHAVE LIKE THIS? They sit at their computers and bulldoze and annihilate anything and anyone that stands in their way or disagrees with them?? No dialogue? No explanation? Who are you Kim Jun Un??
These admins don't know me! They don't know how much I love people! They don't know that my mother is the original church lady that Dana Carvey's character played in the SNL skit. They don't know that I always pay for the car behind me in the Chik-fil-A drive through or that if the guy in my rear-view mirror in traffic looks annoyed (gives me a hand signal?) because he has to wait for me to make a left hand turn, I will abort my intended route and take a detour just so he's not inconvenienced.
So on Good Friday as I was feeling dejected, misunderstood, unheard, judged, betrayed and mistreated by someone I didn't know, guess who came to mind?
The admin that I mentioned above lives in Kentucky. I looked her up. And I was ready to send her a smelly, dead fish in the mail. Then I read Romans 12:21
"Do not repay evil for evil, but overcome evil with good."
So who wants to buy some Under Armour shorts?
Since the beginning of Facebook, millions of people have enjoyed certain groups created for like minded people to share thoughts, sell things, help neighbors, buy stuff, post silly puppy videos, relive memories, etc... I personally have joined many groups and even started some of my own.
So, given the fact that Facebook is a means to facilitate social interaction, can someone please explain to me the phenomenon that equates Facebook Group Admins with bullies? Good gracious, I have never seen such an unfortunate group of people with such profoundly inflated senses of self. What's wrong? Do I sound mad?
Here's what happened.
In an effort to make some money and begin living a life of minimalism (tricky because my mate is a maximalist)I have joined the big, scary world of eBay selling.
And being self-aware of the need for coaching in this area, I joined a FB group -- a support group of sorts for eBay sellers. This particular group had probably 12k members and was very active. How helpful it was to be able to lean on other sellers for advice and input and what a great way to learn.
I noticed that in almost every post however (questions about shipping, packing, airing grievances about low-bidders, etc...)the commenting option was shut off and hence read, "Commenting Has Been Turned Off". Hmmm. That was strange. Did someone say something offensive? I looked again. Not that I could see! Again, another post about "...what do you think would be the value of this...?" I wanted to leave a comment about something that I'd seen that was similar, but again - the commenting was turned off and wouldn't permit any more input.
After noticing about 8 or 10 instances of this, I started to become annoyed. I sent a private message to the Admin which read:
"Hi! I'm new to the eBay group.
I'm just wondering why you are so quick to turn off commenting? I'm a member of many groups, and admin three of my own. Why so heavy handed? What's the harm in allowing a benign conversation to continue?? If it's a friendly exchange, why interfere?
Thanks!"
I waited a couple days to see what her response to me would be. Certainly she would answer me. Or would she? Maybe she'd blast me. I was preparing myself for the worst. I looked at the FB message screen and didn't see any evidence that she had yet read my message. (When you message someone with whom you have no connection, the message hides in an "other" folder that you have to purposely look for. It doesn't automatically notify you.)
I searched for the group so I could post a query. Where was the group? Wait a minute. What? She deleted me?? For what??? For an innocent question?
I don't mind telling you, this infuriates me. This is not the first FB Admin I've encountered with an inflated sense of self. What in the world would possess these admins to rush to hit the block button?? Did they train under Nero? Did they grow up going to summer camp for Spartans? Do they dip their insubordinate members in wax and burn them at the stakes in the palace garden?? Watch it! One wrong move and you're TOAST! GIVE ME A BLEEPIN BREAK. Where's the humanity? The tolerance? The grace? Just answer a question, for goodness sake!
For almost this reason alone, I started a group of my own. Unlike some of the other groups I run, I wanted to create this group for the EXPRESSED PURPOSE OF BEING THE MOST LOVING, MOST PERMISSIVE, MOST GENEROUS Admin there ever was. (You might think this is dramatic, right. ;) )
This Nation of ours is under attack. We are divided over politics, faith, the fate of the ACA. WHY would someone, a supposed adult, choose to behave this way?
If you're still reading, God bless you. You're quite the patient friend.
So that all happened a couple weeks ago. THIS NEXT STORY JUST HAPPENED DAYS AGO.
Along with my eBay selling, I'm pretty actively involved in FB Yardsale groups. But some of my favorite groups got too big and that lead to people not following through, "Passing" a lot more, etc... It became a headache.
So with my PayPal account, a printer and some cute poly mailers, I can ship things from home! So that's what I do now. It's easy and fun and I'm quite good at it!
This last week I posted 2 pairs of my boys' shorts on an Under Armour page. A very active page for which I was so grateful; I'm able to sell a lot quickly. The shorts? 1 pair of Under Armour, the other Nike. I sold both within an hour.
Later I went back to check something and couldn't find the group. Huh? I just sold something. Where did they go? Was I blocked? Are you kidding? Turns out Nike products are not permitted and they have a no-tolerance policy, so I got the boot. And not only the boot, but blocked - which means I can't even SEE the group should I choose to look it up. No tolerance. No warning. I'm a friendly seller. I post nice pictures, good descriptions. Fair prices. I'm honest. But so long! I've been vaporized.
I wrote to the admin of the group to see why I had been ejected, she didn't read my message, but her underling did. I explained how sorry I was. It was an honest mistake. I'm a part of many groups and I forgot that THAT was the group that didn't permit Nike. I also explained that I was very compliant, obedient and would never deliberately defy the rules.
She said the rules were strict, she couldn't reinstate me but would be "happy to add me to two other similar groups". Ok. I thanked her very much.
I enjoyed immediate selling success in this new group that permitted mostly all name brands. But I tread very carefully because I noticed that this new admin was carefully policing a lot of posts; adding her unsolicited opinion here and there.
In this group I answered someone's question using FB's reply feature. (If you know FB you know the reply feature.) In the post (of the shorts I was selling) the admin wrote just moments later, "USING REPLY IS FORBIDDEN IN THIS GROUP. I CANNOT GIVE ANOTHER WARNING."
Another warning? I just joined a few hours ago? OK. Sorry. The reply feature is sorta' automatic for FB users, anymore. But Ok. I'll be more careful.
(Reader, are you still there? I know this is boring. I'm boring myself!)
I found a shirt to fit my son - it was the right size and would fit my husky boy. The seller's original price was $13.50. But she had written in the comments that it was now reduced to $13. I wrote sold, gave my email address but when the invoice came through PayPal, it said, $13.50.
I wrote within the post, "Sally, I'm so sorry, I realize this is petty, but you invoiced me for more than the asking price." I waited a few days for a reply. But instead of hearing from the seller, enter the friendly admin...
"I have read all the edits and it was indeed $13.50."
No. I pointed out the date stamp of the $13 price adjustment and took a screen shot and said, "At 7:20p, she wrote $13." (It was right there!!)
Admin: "It's petty to squabble over $.50. It was obviously an honest mistake. People make honest mistakes all the time."
(Did you hear that? Then how come I wasn't extended the same grace?)
I then wrote, "But when *I* make an honest mistake??" "I'll gladly pay the invoice now. Thanks for your gracious understanding."
I went back to find the post so I could notify the seller but I couldn't locate it. Couldn't find the group. Couldn't find anything. SHE EXPELLED ME FROM THE GROUP?
I immediately messaged the admin, "WHAT in the WORLD??".....then, "I'm sorry, this recipient is not available...." SHE BLOCKED ME, so I can no longer message her, find the group, buy or sell my things.
I AM OUTRAGED. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE WHO BEHAVE LIKE THIS? They sit at their computers and bulldoze and annihilate anything and anyone that stands in their way or disagrees with them?? No dialogue? No explanation? Who are you Kim Jun Un??
These admins don't know me! They don't know how much I love people! They don't know that my mother is the original church lady that Dana Carvey's character played in the SNL skit. They don't know that I always pay for the car behind me in the Chik-fil-A drive through or that if the guy in my rear-view mirror in traffic looks annoyed (gives me a hand signal?) because he has to wait for me to make a left hand turn, I will abort my intended route and take a detour just so he's not inconvenienced.
So on Good Friday as I was feeling dejected, misunderstood, unheard, judged, betrayed and mistreated by someone I didn't know, guess who came to mind?
The admin that I mentioned above lives in Kentucky. I looked her up. And I was ready to send her a smelly, dead fish in the mail. Then I read Romans 12:21
"Do not repay evil for evil, but overcome evil with good."
So who wants to buy some Under Armour shorts?
Friday, December 30, 2016
Why nothing else can satisfy
Prince, Heath Ledger, Whitney Houston, Bobbi Kristina Brown, Chris Farley, River Phoenix, Elvis Presley, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Williams, Michael Jackson, George Michael
... A long list continues.
Hollywood high-rollers who appeared to have it all but just couldn't cope with life on terra firma.
Fame, money, fame, money, and fame. Shoes. Gucci bags. Numerous homes. Travel. Women. Anything money could buy. Fame. And more money. But clearly, those things aren't cures for the hurts deep within each of us.
Have you ever asked yourself why?
The One that created you, that created me, created us with, as the song goes, a "God-shaped hole" in all of us. That longing for something, for satisfaction, for peace, for answers, for 'why am I here?' --- for something Supernatural can only be filled by our Maker Himself.
Jesus says in John's gospel, "But whoever drinks the water I give them will NEVER THIRST..." and Jesus continues..."I am the Bread of LIFE. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 4:14 and John 6:35.)
These poor souls were tormented by this longing for something more, but instead of running toward God, they ran from Him - and to things that couldn't satisfy their longings.
God can be known and He wants you to know Him so He can satisfy the hunger and thirst in you.
I do hope you'll consider these things.
Hollywood high-rollers who appeared to have it all but just couldn't cope with life on terra firma.
Fame, money, fame, money, and fame. Shoes. Gucci bags. Numerous homes. Travel. Women. Anything money could buy. Fame. And more money. But clearly, those things aren't cures for the hurts deep within each of us.
Have you ever asked yourself why?
The One that created you, that created me, created us with, as the song goes, a "God-shaped hole" in all of us. That longing for something, for satisfaction, for peace, for answers, for 'why am I here?' --- for something Supernatural can only be filled by our Maker Himself.
Jesus says in John's gospel, "But whoever drinks the water I give them will NEVER THIRST..." and Jesus continues..."I am the Bread of LIFE. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 4:14 and John 6:35.)
These poor souls were tormented by this longing for something more, but instead of running toward God, they ran from Him - and to things that couldn't satisfy their longings.
God can be known and He wants you to know Him so He can satisfy the hunger and thirst in you.
I do hope you'll consider these things.
Thursday, November 24, 2016
Thank you Father
Nobody really prepares you for that time in your life when the roles are reversed and the strongest man in your earthly world begins to weaken.
This is happening right now to me, and being an eye witness to it is almost suffocating.
A man characterized by the tenacity, internal fortitude and hardworking grit of three men, a man with a strong constitution, always in-charge, has an answer and a plan for every situation (even when you didn't ask), a born leader, never ever give up attitude, GPS in his brain (he knew every exit number of every toll road by heart), shoulders strong enough for all of us to lean on...
Don't misread this; he's not acutely ill, but I see changes in him - and it feels way too soon.
In what seems like the time when I need my daddy the most, when I'm wrecked and tempest-tossed, to whom can I turn?
The answer: Jesus. The byproduct of watching my hero grow frail - it causes me to fall harder into the strong arms of my Heavenly Father, staying low and dependent on Him which is ultimately where I should seek safe refuge.
Proverbs 18:10
"The name of the Lord is a STRONG TOWER. The righteous runneth into it, and is safe."
This is one of his favorites he quoted me yesterday. And from the KJV. ALWAYS the KJV...
"So shall they fear the name of the Lord from the west, and his glory from the rising of the sun. When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the spirit of the Lord shall raise up a standard against him." Isaiah 59:19
Thursday, October 20, 2016
If I were thin, I'd be dangerous
Sometimes, like every day, I ask myself - had I been born with a knock out bod, or legs that could stop a clock, would I be happy? (Uh, yeah!) If I could trade this hypo-metobolic, swashbuckling mess for a svelte, statuesque physique, would that change my life for the better? (Uh, HECK YEAH!!) If I looked more like, say...oh my gosh, any ONE of my numerous, gorgeous real-life friends (and not Fakebook friends, I actually know these gals) would I have more money? Be happily married? Good question.
Although I know what God's Word says about comparing myself to others and I GET that He Himself made me beautiful and unique (yaddah, yaddah, whatever), these are questions, maybe even lies, I let float through my head during a normal day.
Last night while watching the 3rd and final Presidential Debate (insert boos or hollers here), I thought it would be a scream if I bet my friends ---- "If Hillary wins, we all get nose-piercings!" I thought about announcing that to my pals and them rolling their eyes at me instead of howling in laughter like I did. Wouldn't that be rad? I'm how old? Oh, I forget. But I'm ready for some drastic midlife crisis slash piercing. (Oh how lame. Is that the best I can do?)
...Sorry, I was just finishing up serving the children a massaged kale salad for lunch. Ok fine, Red Baron frozen pizza.
Then I thought a tattoo would really shock 'em. But then I remembered I don't have any area, rather mass, on me that would be an acceptable canvas for ink. I hate my arms. My back. My legs. My... Well I DO have a very handsome arches. So a tattoo on the soles of my feet? Oh, this is just dumb.
Don't believe me? Take my friend Trulissa* for instance. She's beautiful, smart and slender. She's married to a lawyer and presently lives in Italy (formerly a resident of Hawaii and who knows where she'll end up next. Certainly not Eddystone.) She has the perfect life because she is pretty, right?
Then there's my friend, Smaroline*. With the looks of a Glamour Magazine model (is that still in publication?) she too is married to a lawyer, lives very, very comfortably, she travels and her husband is her best friend. Because she is stunning, right?
Lastly, my friends Mindy*, Planet* and Tadrienne* (it's so hard to pick just one). Oh and my cousin Mauren*. All married to men that adore them. They live in homes the likes I've only seen in magazines, are happy, travel, have the wherewithal to buy virtually anything they want. All because they're so good looking, right?
Surely that can't be the truth, but fighting these thoughts has become my job of late.
So what does God say about me?
Proverbs 31:30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. (Now we're talkin'!)
And because years ago I decided to stop living for myself and gave my heart to Jesus,
1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
I may not feel like radiant royalty, but God says that I am. So I'm just going to have to take Him on His word.
Maybe it's a good thing I'm not drop dead gorgeous. I'd be dangerous.
*Names have been changed to protect the fabulous.
Although I know what God's Word says about comparing myself to others and I GET that He Himself made me beautiful and unique (yaddah, yaddah, whatever), these are questions, maybe even lies, I let float through my head during a normal day.
Last night while watching the 3rd and final Presidential Debate (insert boos or hollers here), I thought it would be a scream if I bet my friends ---- "If Hillary wins, we all get nose-piercings!" I thought about announcing that to my pals and them rolling their eyes at me instead of howling in laughter like I did. Wouldn't that be rad? I'm how old? Oh, I forget. But I'm ready for some drastic midlife crisis slash piercing. (Oh how lame. Is that the best I can do?)
...Sorry, I was just finishing up serving the children a massaged kale salad for lunch. Ok fine, Red Baron frozen pizza.
Then I thought a tattoo would really shock 'em. But then I remembered I don't have any area, rather mass, on me that would be an acceptable canvas for ink. I hate my arms. My back. My legs. My... Well I DO have a very handsome arches. So a tattoo on the soles of my feet? Oh, this is just dumb.
Don't believe me? Take my friend Trulissa* for instance. She's beautiful, smart and slender. She's married to a lawyer and presently lives in Italy (formerly a resident of Hawaii and who knows where she'll end up next. Certainly not Eddystone.) She has the perfect life because she is pretty, right?
Then there's my friend, Smaroline*. With the looks of a Glamour Magazine model (is that still in publication?) she too is married to a lawyer, lives very, very comfortably, she travels and her husband is her best friend. Because she is stunning, right?
Lastly, my friends Mindy*, Planet* and Tadrienne* (it's so hard to pick just one). Oh and my cousin Mauren*. All married to men that adore them. They live in homes the likes I've only seen in magazines, are happy, travel, have the wherewithal to buy virtually anything they want. All because they're so good looking, right?
Surely that can't be the truth, but fighting these thoughts has become my job of late.
So what does God say about me?
Proverbs 31:30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. (Now we're talkin'!)
And because years ago I decided to stop living for myself and gave my heart to Jesus,
1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
I may not feel like radiant royalty, but God says that I am. So I'm just going to have to take Him on His word.
Maybe it's a good thing I'm not drop dead gorgeous. I'd be dangerous.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Things Commonly Heard on the Road to Chapter 11
You know what's fun? Living a life that's so amusing, it's worth writing about.
Herein is a list of things commonly heard being the wife of a guy who's been out of work a lot.
THEM: Awwww. How's it going? Any leads?
ME:(I curl the corner of my mouth, shake my head lightly and exhale...) No.
THEM: So how's he doing?
ME: The same.
THEM: But you haven't lost your sense of humor. You're still so perky!
ME: Yeah? Here. Let me high five you. In the face. With this chair.
THEM: But what about that job he interviewed for...you know, a couple months ago?
ME: Oh yeah, that? Yes, he's the CEO of that Fortune 500 company now. And I have a private jet.
THEM: So have you thought about going back to work?
ME: Yes. Yes I have. I figure between running the household and homeschooling my children, the graveyard shift would be a perfect fit for me. I would just have to give up sleeping.
THEM: Well, please let me know if I can do anything to help.
ME: How about you list me as a dependent on your AETNA PPO for a few months. Retroactive to 2015.
THEM: Is he depressed?
ME: Is the Pope Catholic?
THEM: And what would you like on your burger?
ME: Government cheese, I guess.
THEM: I saw the other day 7-Eleven is hiring!
ME: Oh. You're so pretty.
THEM: I want to help! I'D LOVE TO HAVE YOU ON MY TEAM (read: I'll earn commissions by being my downline) in RODAN & FIELDS!!
ME: (Get the paddles.....charging......CLEAR!!)
To those of you who genuinely care, this is all in good fun. Thank you for your concern. xo
Herein is a list of things commonly heard being the wife of a guy who's been out of work a lot.
THEM: Awwww. How's it going? Any leads?
ME:(I curl the corner of my mouth, shake my head lightly and exhale...) No.
THEM: So how's he doing?
ME: The same.
THEM: But you haven't lost your sense of humor. You're still so perky!
ME: Yeah? Here. Let me high five you. In the face. With this chair.
THEM: But what about that job he interviewed for...you know, a couple months ago?
ME: Oh yeah, that? Yes, he's the CEO of that Fortune 500 company now. And I have a private jet.
THEM: So have you thought about going back to work?
ME: Yes. Yes I have. I figure between running the household and homeschooling my children, the graveyard shift would be a perfect fit for me. I would just have to give up sleeping.
THEM: Well, please let me know if I can do anything to help.
ME: How about you list me as a dependent on your AETNA PPO for a few months. Retroactive to 2015.
THEM: Is he depressed?
ME: Is the Pope Catholic?
THEM: And what would you like on your burger?
ME: Government cheese, I guess.
THEM: I saw the other day 7-Eleven is hiring!
ME: Oh. You're so pretty.
THEM: I want to help! I'D LOVE TO HAVE YOU ON MY TEAM (read: I'll earn commissions by being my downline) in RODAN & FIELDS!!
ME: (Get the paddles.....charging......CLEAR!!)
To those of you who genuinely care, this is all in good fun. Thank you for your concern. xo
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Avoiding the Pitfalls of Adoption
This is a story warning about pet rescues, specifically dog adoptions, and may only interest some of you. So read, or skim, at will. Here we go....
Sometimes, when the head of the home is unemployed, he has a lot of extra time to search 'the internets' for free stuff, good deals and lots and lots of dogs looking for their "furver" homes. (If I see that phrase one more time.) This isn't a husband bashing post, I'm just simply laying the foundation for this story. One would think these hours would probably be best spent, I dunno, replacing faulty bath fixtures or maybe purging the garage of our tool hoard or maybe even looking for work. (Again, not a bash, just making suggestions aloud. And this is nothing I haven't said to him personally.) Recently we found ourselves in the home of a puppy foster mother with 6-8 adoptable 8 week old puppies. Fascinating! But where did they come from? How did she acquire them? And more importantly, WHAT THE HECK WERE WE DOING THERE?
Rewind to Christmastime: We had our eyes peeled for a canine companion for my mature parents. After seeing an ad on the Chesco SPCA site, my husband took a road trip the very next day to see the pooch. He arrived two hours before they opened to secure his spot in line. I proudly equipped him with my impressive list of personal and Vet references because I'm acquainted with their rigid (and understandably so) application process. Ha. So much for that. He was the only patron there! After a rather cold welcome, they spent an unusual amount of time cross-examining him about his application; about the cats we had to put down nine years ago and the fact that the kitties we recently rescued from a junkyard weren't spayed or vaccinated yet. (They were only months old!) They went out of their way to try to pin something inhumane on us. It was ridiculous. The next day we called and learned our application was not accepted due to our "questionable pet history". (Yeah. We are cruel, not to be trusted.)
Fast Forward to February: Paul whispered something to me and flashed his phone in front of my face; an advertisement for adorable Pug puppies being fostered in Chester County. I thought the puppy was cute and that was that. He showed me the post on Craigslist and I said, "YOU CANNOT SHOP FOR A PUPPY ON CRAIGSLIST!" (I roared, actually. It helps me get my point across quicker.) He told me to relax and showed me that the Craigslist ad provided a Facebook page owned by the same organization. Well, that made sense as the SPCA and many legitimate rescues have FB pages. Hesitantly, we made an appointment to see the puppies (a Pug/Bulldog has been on our list for so long) after all, if we got there and it didn't feel right, we'd move on. We'd escaped the SPCA empty handed several times previously, so I knew we had the ability to say no. Before making the appointment I spoke to the foster mom on the phone at length. She seemed like a nice gal, probably around my age, and tenderly spoke of these particular Pug puppies being surrendered after 'the death in a family (in Pennsylvania) left a grown man with special needs as an orphan; unable to care for the dog and her five or six puppies'. Aw. That WAS a sad story. I asked about several of the other puppies available on their Facebook page. "Where are all the adoptable ADULT dogs??" They seemed to have unlimited litters of 8 week old puppies! So many more than I had ever seen before! I was told that this rescue was just getting started -- and being new didn't have the funding needed to care for adult dogs that usually come with expensive health issues (arthritis, allergies, etc...) She assured me that they DO adopt out adult dogs, but those dogs were featured on her sister's animal rescue site; an outfit in Media, PA under a different name. They are more established and have the wherewithal to handle older dogs. Oh? Ok.
Seconds after we arrived in Spring City to see the Pug pups, my son immediately fell in love with a male Pug. Together my son and I admired his enormous eyes and funny features. But when I looked across the room I found my youngest boy with 7 puppies sleeping on his lap and he was in love, too. He pointed to one puppy in particular that stopped his heart. My husband (yes, we're still married at this juncture) picked up the sleepy puppy and held him six centimeters from my face. "LOOOOOK how CUUUUUUTE!", he squealed. I quickly snapped, "Get him away!" I wanted nothing to do with helplessly falling in love with more than one puppy that day.
I dragged my husband outside and we had words over this very issue. I guess I lost that debate... His reasons included the size of the puppies - "they really won't eat much, their waste is small, in comparison, and they only have small teeth so they can't really do considerable household damage..." My husband left a deposit and we were to return 4 days later when the pups were old enough to be released.
I worried for four days straight, stared at the ceiling, put the milk in the cupboard, didn't answer my phone. What in the world are we going to do? We cannot get two more puppies and my husband isn't changing his mind.
A year ago, during a visit to Lancaster County, we accidentally ended up at the home of an Amish breeder. He was our buggy driver during a tour of the back roads of Lancaster and I immediately made him my close, personal friend (whether he liked it or not) and within a matter of minutes learned that he and his wife bread English Bulldogs. (Our favorite.) Mr. Esh needed a ride home after his shift and I immediately offered to take him home!! WHY NOT!!?!? When we dropped him off, he graciously invited us to see his dogs, his home, walk his property. We were in love. Later that day, we came back to meet his wife who handles all the dog biz. She seated us at her kitchen table. It was warm, dimly lit and comfortable. She had dinner simmering on the stove. (Oh, the irony! Earlier that day we had paid "Plain & Fancy" for a tour of a mock-up Amish home. This was way more authentic.) After our visit, we left our number for her to notify us when the next litter of pups arrived.
During our Lancaster vacation and back at the hotel, I started doing some research and came up with some very concerning facts about breeders in the 717 area code. I shared some photos and my friends suggested I was most likely at a puppy mill. I was in denial. But they had very few dogs. It was clean. Not a lot of barking. My husband thought I was nuts.
I contacted a very well known rescue in the Greater Philadelphia area by email. I wanted to learn more about how to I.D. a puppy mill. She said it was pretty easy. If the breeders are Amish, it's most likely a mill. They breed for money. (But don't all breeders?) They don't name the dogs, they are left in rabbit hutches, they are unheated and they produce litter after litter until they are unprofitable. The owner of this local rescue (Finding Shelter) was so helpful and begged me not to get a puppy from the Esh's. I had made my mind up that she was right and I wanted nothing to do with Amish dog breeders any more. (My husband still thought I was nuts - "Not everybody's out to get you, Sheryl.")
Back to the present-day situation. My stomach churned for days and we set up a meeting to pick up the puppies in Spring City. But before then, I made a call to the owner of this rescue. I had lots of questions. Why did they have so many puppies? Where did they come from? When you adopt from the SPCA, the animals come spayed and neutered to prevent more unwanted puppies! Why didn't this rescue take the same precautions? "I'm sorry to grill you, but I'm just trying to make sure you're a bonafide rescue." I asked and she answered. She had ALL the right answers. "We're just a bunch of moms who rescue puppies." Awwww. Isn't that special? I forced myself to trust her.
When it was time to fetch our puppies, the foster mother offered to drop off the puppies since she was coming "to the mall" that night. Oh. That was nice. Saves us a trip. Little did we know she wouldn't be coming to our home, but meeting us at 7pm, in the dark, in the cold, in a remote area of the PARKING LOT of the mall. She handed us the puppies, said they hadn't eaten yet (it was 7pm!!)because she was at work all day, gave us the vaccine report and that was it. She had two other puppies in the car being picked up at the same time. Oh, and the check? Was made payable to her. Not the shelter. I KNEW IT.
Welp. Here we were. The owners of two new puppies from a dealer. Not a shelter. I was going to be the shame of the dog park. Tarred and feathered, no doubt.
Please use caution and do your homework before getting a dog from a dealer (posing as a rescue.) Clues that I suspected but ignored: 1) The foster mom was a single mom with 3 children, working as a waitress, trying to keep her home. Surely she wasn't fostering because she had lots of extra time??? Needed more responsiblities?? 2) The Facebook page they ran didn't have the option for patrons to grade them with a review. 3) The payment was made directly to the foster, not a shelter with a 501c3. 4) The application they made me complete was too abbreviated and they never checked my Vet or personal references. 5) Days after the adoption, I texted the foster with questions about coccidia. She answered me by saying she was in North Carolina. (Picking up more puppies?????)
6) My spirit of discernment (womens' intution) was on amber alert. I should have stopped there.
My plans are to report this shelter and foster to PA Dog Law and share my story so others don't end up ensnared in the same mess. Here's where to go...
http://www.agriculture.pa.gov/Protect/DogLaw/Pages/default.aspx#.VuqdlOaH_hA
*DEALERS MASQUERADING AS RESCUES:
Hinde's Animal Safe-haven
STAR Wags & Whiskers
*EXCELLENT RESCUES I RECOMMEND
Delco SPCA
Finding Shelter Animal Rescue
Francisvale Home for Smaller Animals
S.N.O.R.T. Short Noses Only Rescue Team
among others...
Sometimes, when the head of the home is unemployed, he has a lot of extra time to search 'the internets' for free stuff, good deals and lots and lots of dogs looking for their "furver" homes. (If I see that phrase one more time.) This isn't a husband bashing post, I'm just simply laying the foundation for this story. One would think these hours would probably be best spent, I dunno, replacing faulty bath fixtures or maybe purging the garage of our tool hoard or maybe even looking for work. (Again, not a bash, just making suggestions aloud. And this is nothing I haven't said to him personally.) Recently we found ourselves in the home of a puppy foster mother with 6-8 adoptable 8 week old puppies. Fascinating! But where did they come from? How did she acquire them? And more importantly, WHAT THE HECK WERE WE DOING THERE?
Rewind to Christmastime: We had our eyes peeled for a canine companion for my mature parents. After seeing an ad on the Chesco SPCA site, my husband took a road trip the very next day to see the pooch. He arrived two hours before they opened to secure his spot in line. I proudly equipped him with my impressive list of personal and Vet references because I'm acquainted with their rigid (and understandably so) application process. Ha. So much for that. He was the only patron there! After a rather cold welcome, they spent an unusual amount of time cross-examining him about his application; about the cats we had to put down nine years ago and the fact that the kitties we recently rescued from a junkyard weren't spayed or vaccinated yet. (They were only months old!) They went out of their way to try to pin something inhumane on us. It was ridiculous. The next day we called and learned our application was not accepted due to our "questionable pet history". (Yeah. We are cruel, not to be trusted.)
Fast Forward to February: Paul whispered something to me and flashed his phone in front of my face; an advertisement for adorable Pug puppies being fostered in Chester County. I thought the puppy was cute and that was that. He showed me the post on Craigslist and I said, "YOU CANNOT SHOP FOR A PUPPY ON CRAIGSLIST!" (I roared, actually. It helps me get my point across quicker.) He told me to relax and showed me that the Craigslist ad provided a Facebook page owned by the same organization. Well, that made sense as the SPCA and many legitimate rescues have FB pages. Hesitantly, we made an appointment to see the puppies (a Pug/Bulldog has been on our list for so long) after all, if we got there and it didn't feel right, we'd move on. We'd escaped the SPCA empty handed several times previously, so I knew we had the ability to say no. Before making the appointment I spoke to the foster mom on the phone at length. She seemed like a nice gal, probably around my age, and tenderly spoke of these particular Pug puppies being surrendered after 'the death in a family (in Pennsylvania) left a grown man with special needs as an orphan; unable to care for the dog and her five or six puppies'. Aw. That WAS a sad story. I asked about several of the other puppies available on their Facebook page. "Where are all the adoptable ADULT dogs??" They seemed to have unlimited litters of 8 week old puppies! So many more than I had ever seen before! I was told that this rescue was just getting started -- and being new didn't have the funding needed to care for adult dogs that usually come with expensive health issues (arthritis, allergies, etc...) She assured me that they DO adopt out adult dogs, but those dogs were featured on her sister's animal rescue site; an outfit in Media, PA under a different name. They are more established and have the wherewithal to handle older dogs. Oh? Ok.
Seconds after we arrived in Spring City to see the Pug pups, my son immediately fell in love with a male Pug. Together my son and I admired his enormous eyes and funny features. But when I looked across the room I found my youngest boy with 7 puppies sleeping on his lap and he was in love, too. He pointed to one puppy in particular that stopped his heart. My husband (yes, we're still married at this juncture) picked up the sleepy puppy and held him six centimeters from my face. "LOOOOOK how CUUUUUUTE!", he squealed. I quickly snapped, "Get him away!" I wanted nothing to do with helplessly falling in love with more than one puppy that day.
I dragged my husband outside and we had words over this very issue. I guess I lost that debate... His reasons included the size of the puppies - "they really won't eat much, their waste is small, in comparison, and they only have small teeth so they can't really do considerable household damage..." My husband left a deposit and we were to return 4 days later when the pups were old enough to be released.
I worried for four days straight, stared at the ceiling, put the milk in the cupboard, didn't answer my phone. What in the world are we going to do? We cannot get two more puppies and my husband isn't changing his mind.
A year ago, during a visit to Lancaster County, we accidentally ended up at the home of an Amish breeder. He was our buggy driver during a tour of the back roads of Lancaster and I immediately made him my close, personal friend (whether he liked it or not) and within a matter of minutes learned that he and his wife bread English Bulldogs. (Our favorite.) Mr. Esh needed a ride home after his shift and I immediately offered to take him home!! WHY NOT!!?!? When we dropped him off, he graciously invited us to see his dogs, his home, walk his property. We were in love. Later that day, we came back to meet his wife who handles all the dog biz. She seated us at her kitchen table. It was warm, dimly lit and comfortable. She had dinner simmering on the stove. (Oh, the irony! Earlier that day we had paid "Plain & Fancy" for a tour of a mock-up Amish home. This was way more authentic.) After our visit, we left our number for her to notify us when the next litter of pups arrived.
During our Lancaster vacation and back at the hotel, I started doing some research and came up with some very concerning facts about breeders in the 717 area code. I shared some photos and my friends suggested I was most likely at a puppy mill. I was in denial. But they had very few dogs. It was clean. Not a lot of barking. My husband thought I was nuts.
I contacted a very well known rescue in the Greater Philadelphia area by email. I wanted to learn more about how to I.D. a puppy mill. She said it was pretty easy. If the breeders are Amish, it's most likely a mill. They breed for money. (But don't all breeders?) They don't name the dogs, they are left in rabbit hutches, they are unheated and they produce litter after litter until they are unprofitable. The owner of this local rescue (Finding Shelter) was so helpful and begged me not to get a puppy from the Esh's. I had made my mind up that she was right and I wanted nothing to do with Amish dog breeders any more. (My husband still thought I was nuts - "Not everybody's out to get you, Sheryl.")
Back to the present-day situation. My stomach churned for days and we set up a meeting to pick up the puppies in Spring City. But before then, I made a call to the owner of this rescue. I had lots of questions. Why did they have so many puppies? Where did they come from? When you adopt from the SPCA, the animals come spayed and neutered to prevent more unwanted puppies! Why didn't this rescue take the same precautions? "I'm sorry to grill you, but I'm just trying to make sure you're a bonafide rescue." I asked and she answered. She had ALL the right answers. "We're just a bunch of moms who rescue puppies." Awwww. Isn't that special? I forced myself to trust her.
When it was time to fetch our puppies, the foster mother offered to drop off the puppies since she was coming "to the mall" that night. Oh. That was nice. Saves us a trip. Little did we know she wouldn't be coming to our home, but meeting us at 7pm, in the dark, in the cold, in a remote area of the PARKING LOT of the mall. She handed us the puppies, said they hadn't eaten yet (it was 7pm!!)because she was at work all day, gave us the vaccine report and that was it. She had two other puppies in the car being picked up at the same time. Oh, and the check? Was made payable to her. Not the shelter. I KNEW IT.
Welp. Here we were. The owners of two new puppies from a dealer. Not a shelter. I was going to be the shame of the dog park. Tarred and feathered, no doubt.
Please use caution and do your homework before getting a dog from a dealer (posing as a rescue.) Clues that I suspected but ignored: 1) The foster mom was a single mom with 3 children, working as a waitress, trying to keep her home. Surely she wasn't fostering because she had lots of extra time??? Needed more responsiblities?? 2) The Facebook page they ran didn't have the option for patrons to grade them with a review. 3) The payment was made directly to the foster, not a shelter with a 501c3. 4) The application they made me complete was too abbreviated and they never checked my Vet or personal references. 5) Days after the adoption, I texted the foster with questions about coccidia. She answered me by saying she was in North Carolina. (Picking up more puppies?????)
6) My spirit of discernment (womens' intution) was on amber alert. I should have stopped there.
My plans are to report this shelter and foster to PA Dog Law and share my story so others don't end up ensnared in the same mess. Here's where to go...
http://www.agriculture.pa.gov/Protect/DogLaw/Pages/default.aspx#.VuqdlOaH_hA
*DEALERS MASQUERADING AS RESCUES:
Hinde's Animal Safe-haven
STAR Wags & Whiskers
*EXCELLENT RESCUES I RECOMMEND
Delco SPCA
Finding Shelter Animal Rescue
Francisvale Home for Smaller Animals
S.N.O.R.T. Short Noses Only Rescue Team
among others...
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Christmas Newsletter 2015
Due to some recent cut-backs and markedly reduced cash flow, this year's Christmas greeting will be electronic. So if you can SEE this, read it. It's your Christmas card. It begins here >>>
Rejoice! It's that time again! That time of year, full of wonder and mystery. Where newsletters from family and friends far and wide come pouring in! Perfectly staged family pictures, taken by paid photographers, each out-doing the next. Families gracefully stretched out on giant throws, nestled between the high-reaching brush of a deer tick infested field during Fall's peak photo shoot season. Fashionably costumed in harmonious Pinterestesque-looking hues. "Behold, A Savior Is Born!" is really spelled more like, "Sebastian's excelling in all of his studies. He was awarded summa cum Tootsie Roll among his 3rd grade peers...he also toured with the boys' choir to Prague, so we decided to meet up with him and ride camels through Egypt on the way home...anyway, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!" Listen, I don't begrudge you all the nice things you've worked hard to do and have. Scratch that. Maybe I do.
Nevertheless, don't feel sorry for me. The wonder continues in our home. It's just a little different than yours. For instance, every day I wake up and wonder if the heat will work... If the phone's just off the hook, or perhaps my service has been suspended. I wonder if my pants will fit. Or if this will be the last time we survive another crack at the Russian roulette I play with questionably out-of-date poultry products. Or if anyone notices that I haven't really tried to do anything cute with my hair in over two, OK six years. I wonder if my A1C really is reaching fatal highs. And perhaps, if I play my cards right and I put off having a baseline mammogram one more year, maybe I won't be alive long enough to actually have to have one. I wonder if it's possible that my neighbor can actually hear the family feuds that take place in the driveway and perhaps that's the reason she no longer talks to me.
Well, enough about me. I'm guessing you want to hear how my perfect children are doing? So, Jake is 23 now. And things are great. Yes, all those charges were dropped. Levi is 9. We've been working hard to address the bullying. He's no longer allowed to target Muslims on the playground, and he's under strict instruction to only go after girls half his size and greater. And Jude. He's 7 and ALMOST potty trained. Atta boy! As for the homeschooling, I've decided to give the boys a year off to decide what they want to do with their lives. (You don't ever want to push kids too hard.)
Paul is still unemployed so I'm using this opportunity to experiment with welfare provisions. I'm excited to announce my new holiday cookbook, "Easy, Elegant Entertaining with Government Cheese". Look for it on Amazon in the coming days. 
From our nearly repossessed home to yours, MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY 2016!
In all seriousness, anything we have is more than we deserve and God's been gracious and faithful all year long, as always, despite our complaints of temporary, worldly struggles. Even the very air we breathe is a gift. Just to live another day in this country, proclaiming our faith in Him without fear of losing our heads, is something we highly underestimate. Happy Christmas wishes and love from all of us at The White House. Matthew 1:21
“And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins.”
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Praise Hands? Warehouse Hands?
So, as you may have heard, my husband's out of work. Which I find particularly funny. In fact, I think it's a riot. Especially at this time of year. If I were to look at it any other way, I'd most definitely decompensate.
Growing up with two older (much, MUCH older) sisters, I had to assume my share of "boy jobs" around the ranch. Moving air-conditioners, lifting things with Dad, loading a cargo truck, mowing the grass. These were all pretty normal for me as a kid. My stage name for these jobs was "Sammy" (since my sisters and I all had S names). When I heard my dad call, "C'mon, Sammy. I need your help", I knew I should reach for my designer support belt and work gloves and get to steppin'. Which opens the windows of my memory a little... My parents had a retail business in our hometown where we also sold wholesale out of our warehouse. My Saintly mom, piano hands and all, packed boxes filled with weighty pillar candles, steered them down a roller belt and was on a first name basis with the Duie Pyle and UPS drivers. I remember how chapped her hands became from using the brown, water based packing tape. Poor mother. She worked so hard.
A friend recently told me about a job she took at a FedEx warehouse; working part-time while her family sleeps. This inspired me to look online and behold, this morning I set the alarm for 3:30a and arrived at 5a at UPS in West Goshen for a "tour/interview". It was dark and the directions for arrival were non-existent, but I was so happy to have been able to zoom South on 202 ALL BY MYSELF. That's the only way you should ever travel 202. Ever. So all that was provided via their online application process was the address. I followed the arrows and steered my Buick into a parking lot where I saw a weigh station -- HUP! NOT GOING THERE! I don't care WHAT they pay. No, really, I saw a sign that said, "Human Resources" and followed the arrow. NOW I was the only passenger vehicle surrounded by herds of tractor trailers lined up like soldiers, and men in orange safety vests were ZOOMING them around at a breakneck pace. I looked at the clock. THIS didn't look right either and now I had only five minutes to get to my interview. I waited patiently while two enormous trucks waltzed around me. Such precision. I couldn't believe how they moved those giant monsters so quickly and carefully with such speed! I thought to myself, "I'm going to get squashed like a bug, aren't I. I'm probably not supposed to be anywhere near here." I finally slipped through the trucks and as I was turning my head trying to figure out where the beans to park, I glanced left just in time to see a furious UPS trucker "waving" at me (ahem!) to get the bleep out of the way. Good thing I had K-LOVE on at a pretty high volume to block out the obscenities. I was sorry. I didn't mean to almost get myself killed. Really.
I parked miles away and was scanned by the safety guy in the guard shack and checked for weapons. Cool. Once I made my way up the steps to the HR department, I was escorted by a nice lady into a quiet room. I turned and saw twenty people, mostly young men, seated around a giant conference table looking at me funny. Gulp. I was the only one wearing pink. Which brings up another point. WHAT EXACTLY does one wear to a warehouse interview? If it's dark when you get dressed, do you select an evening look? And are you expected to apply mascara at 3:30 in the morning? I did, but it wasn't easy. My lashes ached with every stroke, that's how tired my eyes were. These guys obviously didn't give their outfits much thought. I think almost all of them, urban in appearance, had on black or gray hoodies, with the hoodie in the UPRIGHT position. Wow. I totally could have skipped the lip gloss and shaved minutes off of my prep time.
Back to the event. A very slender, 66yo lady with long brown hair, blunt bangs and bright coral nails talked about her love of UPS and her twenty-five years with them. She explained the hours and pay and the torture we were to expect. And work boots. There would be work boots. (Uh oh. This wasn't explained on the website.) You see I wasn't afraid to work hard, but my goal was to be able to maintain at the very least a modest, sporty gel manicure. By the looks of this place, that wasn't gonna happen. And the hours on the website looked doable; 4a - 8:15a. The only problem with that is that would put me back on 202 during morning rush hour. GAH! After further explanation, Suzanne confessed that the advertised 3-4 hour shift would mandatorily grow quickly over time in the days leading up to Christmas... (She said CHRISTMAS! PRAISE HANDS!)...and that REALLY I would be required to report at 3a, then 2a, then 1a, then 12mid --- and work until 7 or 8am. That's ok. But when again am I supposed to sleep?
She escorted us downstairs to take a look at the brave men in brown up close. I stepped carefully up to truck #102 and got to see LIVE how the boxes are separated by shelf and how they must be rapidly loaded in order to get the deliveries out on time. It was dark. Really dark. It was kinda' cold, but everyone was in tank tops sweating their tails off. But I noticed no gloves. These guys didn't care about callouses?? I continued to smile and be my charming self. They were probably all laughing at me.
Suzanne asked how many of us were still interested in an interview -- the jobs would start Monday. "Um, I'm interested---but with questions." She was not amused by me. She didn't know anything of the advertised pay on the website nor the hours that were listed. She said they're shifting into Christmas overdrive and if I didn't want to work lots of hours, then this wasn't the time to apply.
I decided I was too young to die. But it's 6:15a and I'm all dressed up and have nowhere to go. Oh well, it was worth a try. At least I got to take this picture of UPS's neighbor for all my Q friends. Back to selling stuff outta my garage for now.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Need a laugh today?
The following conversation took place at our local pool. Normally a very, very quiet place during the day. Folks start to file in after 4p when the rates drop. But the other day I was seated by the deep end and I see (and hear) a grown woman swim over to the hunky Lifeguard stand (the Lifeguard was seated up high) and she yelled out of the blue, "Better not get that melanoma cancer!" (He was wearing a hat, dark shades and was neatly tucked directly under a large umbrella.) I thought to myself, oh how dear. She continued, "I had that last year! I have 6 kids. Yup. Got 4 boys and 2 girls. One's a singer in Nashville. He's on the COMPUTER! He records with Bon Jovi." I continued to think, oh she IS dear. She went on and on about her kids and then I got distracted and turned off my ears.
Yesterday at the pool, my boys were yelling at me to get the skimmer (like I work there?) to remove some of the floating debris that remained after the previous day's tornado that ripped through King of Prussia. (Jamie, if you're reading this, Gulph Mills Apts suffered loads of damage. 2 cars lost their windshields, plus other destruction.) Out of no-where I hear, "I used to swim in the creek! Kids today!!" There she was. My friend from the other day. She was sunbathing, laying down, and then WOOP, she sits up to speak to us. It startled me a bit but inside I was cracking up. I engaged her in casual conversation about the terrible damage sustained by the apartments behind us. "I saw that on my way to Bible Study this morning", she tells me. Then the following happened...
ME: You go to Bible Study?
SHE: Yeah. You heard of it? Ever do it?
ME: Sure thing. Where do you go?
SHE: (She points to the trees.) Down the road. At a house.
ME: Oh! That's great!
SHE: Where do YOU do it?
ME: Well, we went to Church of the Saviour for years....
SHE: Oh, I go to prayer meetin' there. But they're closed for the summer. Are you reborn again??
ME: Yes I am!
SHE: Aw, it's the best, isn't it? That Catholic stuff is all mixed up. All they want is your money. They never call to see how you're doin' or nothin'.
ME: (I call out something to my boys...)
SHE: How many kids you got?
ME: I answer
SHE: I got 6 kids. I got 4 boys and 2 girls. Ohhhhh my boys are so GOOD LOOKING!!
ME: What about your girls?!! (I laugh)
SHE: Oh, they're BEAUTIFUL! Wait I'll show you.
She LEAPS up, no shoes, just bathing suit and starts to leave...
SHE: I got pictures in my car. I'm gonna show you...
She returns a few minutes later with a large photo ALBUM. I leaf through what are the MOST GORGEOUS, Pinterest perfect photographs of a Harvest Moon wedding last August in Honeybrook. I swear, everything was perfect. An old fashioned typewriter with which to sign the guest book. The men wore whatever suits they wanted, but they all blended in shades of brown tweed and gray. Lots and lots of texture complimented by the cutest little sprigs of wheat as boutonnieres. The the ring bearer had long blond hair. HIS name was Ocean. The bride wore a simple, outdoor appropriate dress.
SHE: She's a lactose intolerant breastfeeding nurse. (I had to think about that for a minute.) Yeah, she makes good money. They bought a house down the Art Museum. Guess how much it was. (I shrug my shoulders.) $400,000.
She then directed my attention back to the photos, and pointed to each of her children with such pride. It was really adorable. In the meantime, my curious children were standing directly behind me looking with great care at every photo and hanging on every word this sweet lady was saying.
SHE: Look at these boys! Look! He's mine,(pointing to each son), HE'S mine. Aren't they good looking? That's Richie. That's Tommy. He's gay. You can kinda' tell, can't ya? (This is when I started to pray she wouldn't say too much.) This is the one that lives in Nashville... Oh my gosh that wedding was work! It was all organic. Even the beer was homemade. That's the best kind. Ya get REAL DRUNK!! (I'm screaming on the inside, and I can hear all the questions I'm going to get later from my little boys.) I guess my facial expression made her rebut,
SHE: Oh, but I haven't drank in years. Yep. I got two in Nashville, two at the Art Museum, one in (???), and one in (??? ) and my youngest I got home with me.
I fell all over the photos! I really did love everything I saw. They were perfect. And she returns to her seat.
LEVI: (In a whisper) Mom, she adopted all those kids?
ME: What honey?
LEVI: She said she got one in Nashville and one somewhere else....
Oh, I'm screaming. This was the conversation I had with my new "reborn again" friend. She told me she comes to the pool every day to get away from her handicapped husband who works from home. He "does computer science". So I'm sure I'll be seeing her tomorrow. Stay tuned.
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