Well, sometimes. Lack of sleep makes most people cranky. Those of us who can live on a little less sleep than the norm for days on end consider the “extra” hours in a day a blessing. Except when we’re also moms. Homeschooling moms. With a ministry to run. And laundry and dishes to do. And a little boy who likes to jump in our bed for cuddle time before the sun wakes up. And a whining little girl with a sore throat who keeps sleep walking (and talking) into the room while I’m trying to write. Poor thing. She has no idea what she’s saying. The big kid? He’s a sleeper. I think his body is preparing for graduation from tweendom to teendom. Yes, I’m the only insomniac in this house.
Tonight I accomplished a huge feat; I wrote our new support letter for SEVENS. The truth is that I co-wrote it, and Benny did most of the work. Still, I was writing and that counts. I also updated the SEVENS website the best I could while Mr. Sleepyhead was sawing logs in the next room. I am NOT an all-knowing, web tech geek, and we sorely need one on our team. Are you interested? It’s sort of like mothering. You answer to people who need your attention immediately, analyze the problem, come up with the best solution for everyone involved, then have a snack, all while working to make your place look good so you can have people over. There might be a few more steps involved, but who’s counting, right?
The problem with insomnia and writing late at night is that my fingers get cold. I need a hot drink to warm them, but then I worry incessantly that I might knock the darn thing over onto my precious…I mean laptop. Where’s my pink travel mug? The one with the skull on it? That should do the trick.
While I’m up writing tonight, I’m thinking about all of my friends who are participating in National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo. 50,000+ words in 30 days. Too bad I can’t type as fast as I talk. 😉 I wonder how they do it? Are they insomniacs too? Do they manage their time better than I do? Do they ignore their families like I do when I’m writing or reading a really great novel? That’s the case I plead for being a night owl; I can get a lot done when nobody is awake to need me. What good am I doing while I sleep? My grandmother used to say you can sleep when you’re dead. Maybe that’s where the phrase “dead tired” comes from; all of those people who took my grandmother’s advice. Crazy people. Enough rambling. It’s after 2 a.m. and my inner monologue is starting to sound like Dory from Finding Nemo. This insomniac is going to bed. Good night friends!
Sound bytes. That’s all I seem to have time for these days. It’s easy and I’m lazy. Period. I’ve had a love hate relationship with blogging and a love love relationship with Facebook. It’s true. Just ask one of my 1600 closest friends. Pop on in for a pseudo-conversation and a peek at my latest flair or mobile upload. Stop by here and see the dust collecting on my pretty daisies. It’s sad really, my laziness. I love writing, so why don’t I make the time to put fingers to keys and produce something worth reading? Laziness. Oh how I hate that word. Poor time management. Yes, that too. I like Facebook. Did I mention it’s easier?
I fondly remember the days when my blogging buddies and I frequented each others pages, spreading our encouragement, laughing at each other’s silliness, praying each other through the crappy days, and recommending books, music, movies, and other blogs. Many of them have abandoned blogging all together. Me? I’ve been treading water for a long time, trying to decide if I was circling the drain, just out for a lazy (there’s that word again) float, or if I was just taking a little break from the exercise.
Blogging used to be fun. Then I joined a writer’s group and it became not-so-fun. (Yes, I worded the sentence that way on purpose.) What was once spontaneous and gave me a public voice, became a millstone around my neck as I learned about platform, audience, self-promotion, and the words, “If you want to be successful, you NEED a blog.” Uh oh. Did I sense a bandwagon approaching? Is that what happened? Someone told me that I NEED a blog, so my rebellious spirit rose up to prove them wrong? I had been blogging for 5 years at that point. I didn’t NEED my blog, but I wanted it. I watched as friends who had no desire to blog, created their sites and dutifully (another word I’m not fond of) clicked away to build their network. I hopped on over to Facebook and began getting friend requests from writers who don’t know me but wanted me to “be their fan” and help promote their work. Sure. I can do that. But me? Forced to blog because that’s what writers do? That rebellious spirit planted both feet, squared her shoulders up (can you see her hands on her hips and the challenging gleam in her eyes?) and said, “Wanna bet?”
Who likes being told what to do? How do I reign that girl in? How is it August already and I haven’t posted since January? I’m feeling it again. I want to blog. I want to connect through the written word and I want to have the freedom to use more than 140 characters, so I still fail to see the point of Twitter. Sorry. Facebook is my friend, but I miss my old friends, so here I am. I’m back again.
I wrote these notes on Facebook and thought I’d share them here for my family and friends who don’t share my Facebook addiciton. 🙂 I’ll be back here tomorrow with a post about how I save money at the grocery store.
Part 1
I stayed home with Pete while Benny, Max, and Zoe went to meet a few of our volunteers and our street friends for Supper on the Pearl tonight. I’ve been thinking about it all…the people who give of their time and money to make a meal and serve others, our friends on the streets who wouldn’t have had a hot meal tonight if it weren’t for our volunteers, and my children. What do they think of it all? Some days it feels overwhelming. Are we making the biggest difference we can? Is the smallness of what we do enough of an act of love for our street friends to experience grace and rest? Am I teaching our children gratefulness in a way that they will understand how blessed they really are? So many questions.
As I sat at my computer tonight, I turned on itunes and listened to my top 25 most played songs. When I reached the following song, it hit me – compassion and action are just two of the gifts I have to offer to my friends on the streets. I don’t need to dwell on my own feelings of inadequacy because it’s not about me, or my kids, our volunteers, or even our street friends. It’s about God and what HE can do with what we have and are willing to offer. It’s 5 loaves and 2 fish, multiplied for the hungry. And we’re all so very hungry. What seems like a meager lunch to me can become a feast for the masses with enough leftovers for another lunch. God can do that. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it!
While our street friends need food, they also hunger for love, being known, and relief from the hard times. Take a way the hunger for food, and our volunteers aren’t much different. My children? They don’t know hard times yet, but they will. And me? I’m just sitting here thinking, and this is a good thinking song. Listen to it on youtube:
Hard Times by Eastmountainsouth
Let us pause in life’s pleasures and count its many tears, while we all sup sorrow with the poor. There’s a song that will linger forever in our ears, oh, hard times come again no more.
‘Tis a song… a sigh of the weary, hard times… hard times come again no more. Many days you have lingered around my cabin door, oh… hard times come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay, there are frail ones fainting at the door. Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say, oh, hard times come again no more.
‘Tis a song… a sigh of the weary, hard times… hard times come again no more. Many days you have lingered around my cabin door, oh, hard times come again no more.
‘Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave, ’tis a wail that is heard upon the shore. ‘Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave, oh, hard times come again no more.
‘Tis a song…a sigh of the weary, hard times… hard times come again no more. Many days you have lingered around my cabin door,oh, hard times come again no more. Oh, hard times come again no more.
Part 2
I wrote the first note after everyone went to bed last night, and before Benny and I had a chance to talk through the evening. So this morning I told him about the note and explained what I had been feeling this week. He just smiled and began reassuring me that we are right where we’re supposed to be, and doing what God led us to do, then he told me a story.
Last night at Supper on the Pearl, several guys were thanking Benny for doing the food. He told them they were welcome, and one of them said “This is a lot better than picking food out of the trash or asking (begging) for people’s leftovers. Benny told him that’s why we do this; provide food so you don’t have to ask for it, sure, but also to offer dignity and value, and to invite them to be part of a meal. One of the men thanked him again and said, “Well we know who SEVENS is, and we have a lot of respect for you guys.”
I got a little teary and silently thanked God for the confirmation. Not just that He led us to feed the hungry, but to offer them dignity and value, and invite them to be a part of something. God answered my question. We make a difference.
Then at church this morning, my friend Karen got up to talk about the rich meaning behind communion and asked us to follow along as she read Matthew 9:9-13. My breath caught in my throat as I opened my Bible. When Karen began to read, I burst into tears. Not loudly, but the tears flowed freely down my face. My friend Paula was sitting next to me and she put her arm around me. I couldn’t control it and I had to get up and leave the service for a few minutes. A concerned and loving friend, Paula followed me to the bathroom not knowing that nothing was wrong. I was just having a Holy Spirit moment. You see, a few days ago, Ty, one of our TX teens who has participated in our summer program, sent me a message on Facebook:
“our youth group is doing this 40 day bible reading challenge and i read a couple of verses the other day that made me think of you and benny. It’s Matthew 9:9-13. cant wait to see yall at camp this summer”
Do you see what happened? I asked, and God answered. I was struggling with doubt and He sent a kid I love to tell me I’m where I’m supposed to be. And just in case I missed it the first time, he reminded me again during church through two of my best friends. And that would be wonderful if that were the end of the story, but God is God and He outdoes Himself.
As I was leaving my house this afternoon, I walked around my van to get in, and something caught my eye. I looked down and stared in disbelief at a heart shaped rock right in front of me. I had just walked that path an hour before and I swear it wasn’t there! For those of you that don’t know, heart rocks are one of mine and God’s love languages. He gives them to me, sometimes when I ask, and sometimes when I haven’t, obviously. I find them in the strangest places. Tearing up again, I picked up the rock and turned it over in my hand, then showed Max, whose face lit up. He totally gets my rock thing. I thanked God for the gift and told Him that I love Him too.
It’s time for bed and where as lastnight was one of questions, tonight I find myself overwhelmed by God’s love. Since I ended the last note with a song by Eastmountainsouth, I think it’s only appropriate to do the same with this one. This is the song I sang when I auditioned for the worship band. It’s also on my itunes Top 25 played list. I couldn’t find a youtube video I liked for the song, but I wanted you to hear it:
So Are You To Me…
As the music at the banquet, As the wine before the meal,
As the firelight in the night, So are you to me
As the ruby in the setting, As the fruit upon the tree,
As the wind blows over the plains, So are you to me
As the wind blows over the plains, So are you to me,
January 1. A time of new beginnings. The promise of what is to come. Hope for the future. All good things.
I’m redesigning the blog, refocusing my life, and refusing to make silly resolutions I won’t stick to. I don’t know what it is about starting another year that makes me feel like I’m getting another chance at life. It’s just another day, the day after December 31st, yet it’s so much more to me. Even the word “NEW” is exciting and hints at the adventure that will surely come this year.
A few of my simple goals for 2010?
1. Return all of my Redbox movies on time.
2. Become a “Pro” at Wii Sports.
3. Write one letter a month, BY HAND, and mail it.
4. Decrease our household clutter by 50%.
5. Blog more than 24 times. That’s what I did last year and I know I can do better than that. Wish me luck.
Five years ago, my 2nd blog post was about thoughts on death. My grandmother had died a few weeks prior to writing it and I found myself in a melancholy mood as I thought about some of the people I had lost in my life. I didn’t get to say goodbye to any of them. They were all sudden and unexpected, as I guess most deaths are, but today’s loss was not. I knew it was coming. My mom and I have been talking about it for a few weeks, and I encouraged her to say what she needed to say to her sister before she passed on because she didn’t get that chance when she lost her mom. Thankfully, she was able to spend some sweet time with my aunt last weekend before Aunt Sharon took a turn for the worse and was hospitalized.
It’s been an agonizing week for my aunt and her family as well as my extended family. She’s been in poor health the past few years enduring two kidney transplants, a heart attack, and surviving breast cancer. This on top of a debilitating disease I can’t pronounce, being deaf without her hearing aides, and suffering from a myriad of illnesses. She was a fighter, but the latest cancer – this time in her liver and spreading – got the best of her. She came down with pneumonia a little over a week ago, and spiraled downhill from there. Within a few days, she wasn’t making any sense when she talked, or recognizing her husband and children. Family members started hanging out at the hospital around the clock so she wouldn’t be alone unless she was sleeping, then tonight we all had to say goodbye. Surrounded by people who loved her, she went to be with Jesus.
I won’t be there to grieve with the family or attend the funeral, so I wanted to write a tribute to her here and share a few memories. This picture was taken by my photographer cousin Lisa, who shared a special bond (and one of her kidneys) with Aunt Sharon. I don’t know when it was taken, and I didn’t get permission to post it here, so please forgive me Lisa! I didn’t have any recent pictures of her.
When I was very small, Aunt Sharon used to babysit me and my brothers so my mom could go to work. It was REALLY early in the morning when we would arrive and she’d put cartoons on for us, cover us with blankets, and give us cereal. I always felt welcome at her house.
I took an art class one summer during elementary school. One day I arrived at school only to open the door and catch it over my sandals, ripping the nail up from my big toe. Instead of going inside to get help, I left a bloody trail as I ran/walked/hopped all the way to Aunt Sharon’s house a few blocks away so she could take care of me. I knew she could make it all better, and she did.
When I was an awkward teenager, she’d run her fingers through my curly hair (I called it frizzy), and tell me I was beautiful and that she loved me. She was always praising me and telling me how talented I was.
No one could top Aunt Sharon’s apple pie. Forget the 9″ round pan. The woman used a 1/2 sheet cake pan, made her own crust and filling, baked and frosted it, and served it in huge slices. The very last time I saw her, I enjoyed a big apple pie slice!
When I remember Aunt Sharon, I’ll think of the memories I’ve already shared here, the Mt. Dew she drank when I was a kid, the hundreds of pieces of Elvis memorabilia she had, her sense of humor and the way she’d lightly slap my arm at the punch line as she let me in on whatever joke she was telling, and the video I have of her doing her best to rip through a deck of cards, something my brother Lennie and I taught her a few years ago. 🙂
She was good to me and I will miss her! She leaves behind a husband, daughter, son, daughter-in-law, grandson, and a huge extended family. Please pray for them all as they too say goodbye.
In loving memory, I end this post with my favorite song by her favorite artist. I don’t know if she had a favorite song by Elvis, but I can’t think of either of them without thinking of the other one too. For you Aunt Sharon…
