Updated on October 22, 2015
Life is hard…but God
We gave a family a ride home from church.
I couldn’t believe they had walked so far to get there. I can’t believe they walk so far to get anywhere. I have seen this family at the liquor store buying snacks and watched them walk home. It’s probably about a mile to both the church and the store. And this little family of 4 is walking.
We watch handicapped children unload and load buses every morning at both of our schools. We see aids waiting for them and helping them every minute of the day. We see these children, who can not do anything for themselves, come to the same school where we are to learn.
We have not experienced this before.
We are a part of a church with an older population. These people love deeply but are aging before they are ready. I sat in a prayer service. I sat there because I want this to be my church home. That means getting to a prayer service even when I don’t know one person on the growing list. So I listened. And heard the hurt as they talked about their visits and updates on their friends that were sick, dying, or mentally missing.
I have not experienced this type of service since I was a young girl when I would sit and listen and not understand what we were talking about.
I’m still struggling why God brought my family to this community. I’m beginning to see such hurt and brokenness all around. Everywhere.
This is not my calling, or is it?….I’m impatient. And prideful. And don’t know how to relate to sick or hurting or dying or poor or mentally missing. We went through the yucks with dad and I still don’t know what to say or how to act around the sick or hurting or dying or poor or mentally missing. Maybe it’s not my job to know what to say or how to act. Maybe I just show up and love.
My sweet little bubble of easy is bursting.
The community and church we left was pretty and had a nice bow ties neatly and tight to keep the mess tucked away.
But instead of thinking about me…what if it’s about them? The sick or hurting or dying or poor or mentally missing.
Can I consider the brokenness around me? Can I identify them and be broken with them? And petition God for them? Can I be open to how God want me to respond? Can you? Are you broken too?
Psalm 34:17-18
The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.
Psalm 147:3
He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.
He hears. He heals. He’s there. He shows up.
We are here for a reason…maybe for now, we just need to show up and be broken right along with them.
Maybe we need to just love…
Posted on October 21, 2015
Absolutely Impatient
Patience has eluded me my entire life.
I am a type A, overachieving, perfectionist. People mess me up all the time. Making a mistake is unacceptable. (And embarrassing).
I am impatient when people are not acting like adults (or how I think they should act).
I am impatient when you do not drive the speed limit…5 under is getting us nowhere…I might as well get out and walk!
I am impatient when I have explained math 2 times. You need to get it. I don’t care that you are nine and you have growing pains. Figure it out.
I am impatient when I feel like I have answered the same questions more than one time. How else do I explain so that you get it? Why don’t you get it?
In a nutshell, I am a delight.
And we have been transplanted into a new place where:
-I want to sit and whine because all the new has been harder on me than I thought and I’m tired of putting on a brave face.
-I don’t quite drive the speed limit because I’m not exactly sure where I am going. (Or I am driving exactly the speed limit because I don’t have time to be stopped for speeding and you need slow down and be more patient)…
-I don’t really understand how things work at this new school…can you please explain it to me again.
….do you see the pattern?
I want to be involved and know my place at school and at church. I want to know people and their story and have a few experiences behind us.
I am always about 3 steps passed where I need to be and I’m learning that this is not how I am going to operate here.
I need to slow down and listen to the story so that I get to know the new person.
I need to slow down and let you drive 5 miles under the speed limit because it only takes me 5 minutes to get anywhere so I’ll never really be that late.
I need to explain math again and again until you feel confident and ready for your test…. Because unless I can figure out how to teach you how to be pretty and “marry up”, you’re gonna need math.
(She’s got the “pretty” down…now to “marry up” )
Are you finding yourself rushed and hurried and impatient? Or are you in a season where you need more time and more answers and more investing?
I pray joy and peace are your absolutes today.
Updated on October 20, 2015
The Chickens are here
The girls are almost two weeks old. I’m not sure that equates a “saga” but there is no end in sight…we are in this for the long haul.
The girls are the chickens. I think they are all girls. (We paid for them to be all girls). In “farm” language, they are called pullots. All girls.
We have tried to be consistent about talking to them and calling them girls. (“Hi girls. Good morning girls. Chick chick chick.”) We hoped this would help them get used to us. We want them to like us. So much so that we bought meal worms, and chicken stick to hang and even a little food ball. We want them to love us and equate our presence with good treats.
They are starting to get feathers on their wings and starting to get little tail feathers. All but one.
We have a sick sister-chick. She is smaller than the others and has a bald booty. (The bald butt was the dead giveaway for her “sickness”…I didn’t have to google. )
We watched her for a while. She wasn’t eating. She wasn’t socializing. She was laying around and moving out of the way when another chick was around. So I decided to pull her out of the brooder (a.k.a. Little chicken box) into her own pen. Two reasons: so she didn’t have to compete for food and so she didn’t share her yucks with the other girls.
By day 2 of her isolation, she was already looking better and seemed to have more energy. She has been eating and drinking like a chicken rock star!
We will leave her in her isolation pen for a few more days. I hope she makes it. We bought 20 and expected to lose several to sickness and predators but I’m not ready to face that part of farm life.
(Isolation pen is just a galvanized bucket with chicken wire wrapped around it.)
In a few weeks they will be big enough to feed food scraps and let them out in the yard. We are ready for the days when they come to us instead of running to the far corner of the brooder. And my sister girl is ready to cuddle some sister chicks!
Posted on October 19, 2015
Adult Fail
Adulting is hard. Being cool is really hard.
Nine days out of the week I don’t want to be a grown up. That’s right, 9 of the days. Because that’s how many times during the week that I don’t want to math either. As I drive myself to the grocery store, I think about how most days I don’t know how to be a grown-up. I don’t know what I’m doing at the grocery store. I don’t know what I’m doing trying to feed these fools. I walk around in circles hoping to have a culinary epiphany…..
And I have to tell you, I just don’t really like to adult at all. Why is it that I can’t get my seasonal wardrobe switched out without someone needing to be fed, or cleaned up, or helped out? Can I just hide in my closet undisturbed for the afternoon?
Being adult means that you’re supposed to understand stuff. I don’t always understand stuff. I’m don’t understand stuff most of the time. I answer “sure” and nod my head and grin real big, but I have no idea what you are talking about.
There’s also the whole cool part of being an adult that really stresses me out. And I’m beginning to realize that I’m not cool (and my kids are on to it too). For example…”Bye Felicia”. What the crap does that mean? Why is it funny? (Why did I like that statement when I really have no idea who Felicia is and why everyone seems to be saying Bye to her?)
I’ve asked my friends. They don’t know either. But their kids use the term and we assume it’s a successful use of the term…not that we know…. And it must be cool because now you can get a t-shirt too. What a cool t-shirt. (Is it a cool t-shirt? I have no idea).
I googled it. I had to know. It turns out that the term “Bye Felicia” is a reference to the movie Friday when Ice Cube is dismissing the crackhead Felicia. (So you say it when you don’t care or want to hear what someone is saying).
Being cool and adulting is hard. (Thank goodness for google…or it would just be impossible.)
No adulting required for my new cool club I’m starting.
Tell the truth…did you know who Felicia was???
Posted on October 12, 2015
The family the rocks together….
I decided to step away from the #write31days blog challenge. It’s for people that are experts on things. It’s for writers that write to share words and to make a living. It’s for people who have thousands of followers and book deals.
It’s not for me.
I write blog posts when I feel like I have something to share with you. I write when I have a funny story you need to hear or I have ridiculousness you have to know about.
I also write when I have aomething great to tell you about that was surprisingly not a disaster!
We had a family weekend in Shreveport. We left brother’s baseball game Saturday and drove 2 hours to Shreveport to catch the last night of the Red River Revel festival and Robert Earl Keen on concert.
We drove over and followed google map directions. We realized once we were there that I booked a room at the wrong hotel. Instead of being at the hotel next door to the festival, we were 10 miles away.
Instead of letting it ruin our whole day, we cleaned ourselves up and drove ourselves over to the festival. We found food and drinks and art and clean bathrooms and great music. We found some much needed family time.
It was sister’s first concert. One of many! My sister-girl likes to rock!
It could have been ruined. It could have been tense. It could have been the exact opposite of what it was.
But I got my peep time. I got my handsome time. And I got to enjoy and share my love of music with the boy and the girl.
That’s what I want to tell you about today. As a family we pushed forward and it worked out. Together we rocked!
(And then we ate too much at IHOP and came back to Texas….the end).
Posted on October 9, 2015
Today’s Matters
I miss teaching. I miss talking. I miss discussions with the Holla Mommas on all things that make up our today. I miss hugging my soul sister and sharing how very real God is today.
An unexpected byproduct of our move has been the missed things above. Most of my misses involved words and community and comraderie.
I can talk to my Handsome (but it’s not the same…he doesn’t care about my nails or if I’m growing my hair out or now).
I can talk to Little Man. Sometimes. If he’s not in a mood or playing baseball.
I can talk to Sister Girl. If I can get a word in or if she’s not too busy not doing what I ask her to do.
I started Love Like Breathing because I needed to talk. I need to tell. I need to say the things. But the last two days have been hard. And I feel confident I hit an all time low with the snake heart video. (I’m going to apologize for that right now).
I was reminded today to blog about what I know. Or what I don’t know. What matters today!
Today I know that we are settling in this little town. Finding our places. Creating new spaces. Remembering names and making family connections.
This matters.
The names I learned today are important. They matter.
The places I go are important because they bring me to new faces. They matter.
The faces are important because they are part of my community. My community matters.
I know God moved our family here for a great reason. I know the places and spaces and faces are a big part of that great reason.
And today…that’s what matters.
Posted on October 9, 2015
Booger the Snake
Snakes scare me. They freak me out. I don’t like them at all….ever…
Handsome had a snake when we met. (Get your head out of the gutter). It was a 8 ft red tail boa. It was big. And a snake. (I have an irrational fear of snakes….thank you toot-toot tommy.)
It was a part of who Handsome was so I went with it. It freaked me out…. So that I felt safe and not scared, I named the snake Booger. I ask handsome what the snake’s name was when I first met her and handsome’s response was…”Why would I name it? It’s not like it will come when I call it.” So snake was named Booger because boogers aren’t scary.
Tonight at the farm we killed a snake. A deathly killer snake. (I made that up but I just totally hate them.)
It was a big snake. I had the toot-toot reaction that consists of irrational fear and shivering. It was the biggest snake I’ve seen today. (Also the only one. But that’s not the point).
Brother said…”at least it want as big as booger”…
It’s been 12 years since we shared our home with booger the gigantic snake. She moved out when we moved to our first house. Along with the piranhas… We had a whole exotic super scary pet vibe for a while. I told you we were street! (Ha ha ha). I’ll tell you the piranha story too one day.
Handsome looked at brother with an inquisitive look at the booger comment.
H: Booger wasn’t it’s name.
B: What? I thought it’s name was booger.
Me: ha ha ha. I called it booger because boogers aren’t scary.
H:It didn’t have a name because it didn’t come when I called it.
Totally right….boogers aren’t scary.
That’s my wisdom for the day.
Posted on October 7, 2015
Story Telling
When my dad was in his late teens, he was driving along the railroad tracks picking up cross ties.
When he got to a place that was a little too muddy, he decided to drive up on the tracks and ended up getting his truck stuck on the tracks. So he got out and walked over to the house across the pasture to call a tow truck. Just as the tow truck company answered the phone, he heard the toot of a train horn coming down the tracks. He said “Never Mind”, hung up and went outside just in time to see the engine ram into his pickup. Dad started running along with the gentleman that let him use the phone.
About half way across the pasture, daddy turned to the farmer and asked why they were running.
The farmer said, “there might be someone in that pickup”.
Dad said, “There wasn’t anyone in it when I left.”
My dad was a story teller. He could make up some crazy stuff. He could get himself involved in some shenanigans. He was a giant of a man and my hero.
Monday will be the 4th time it has been October 12th without my dad. I don’t want to talk about it on Monday so I thought I’d share one of his stories today.
This is day 7 of my #write31days blogging challenge. Today was hard. Tomorrow needs to be funny….
Updated on October 6, 2015
Soul Mates
Handsome is my very best friend.
I started the day reading a blog post at CarrieWiseHeart.com titled “10 Reasons you don’t need a boyfriend or Girlfriend in High School”. You can read it here. I agree with every word of it. Her 10 reasons are spot on. So you can just hop over and read her post knowing that the rest of my words are just a big DITTO…..
My handsome husband and I didn’t meet until I was 21. That was after I innocently stalked him and fell for him before ever having our first conversation. I dated some people before him. All of those relationships were hurtful eventually. Any of the juicy details of those relationships would be disrespectful to Handsome, so I’ll refrain from too much info on them. But that’s brings me to my point…..
The relationships pre-Handsome were emotionally wasteful and exhausting.
I don’t want my children to go through the hurt I felt when those high school and college relationships were falling apart, being taped back together, falling apart again, and being thrown in the trash. I feel so strongly about teaching my children to know their worth without a boyfriend or girlfriend. I want my children to be confident and feel so loved at home that they don’t feel the need to even date until they are ready to find a mate.
My kids are not interested in the opposite sex yet. (Thank you Jesus). We talk openly about dating and how it’s a waste of time. We even talk about it when friends are over and I try to squash any conversations that are about boyfriends or girlfriends.
The world is broken. I understand that. Hurt is inevitable. I understand that too. We are all looking for love and acceptance and some of us will look any and everywhere until we find it. But dating creates a whole new avenue for brokenness and hurt. For now, I want to protect them from all the hurt and brokenness I can. If that means we don’t date until college and are judged because that whole concept is a little weird, I’m totally okay with that.
I want my little peeps in my house to feel secure and loved. I want them to feel so confident about their place in the world and their worth, that they don’t feel any draw to having any type of peer relationship other than great friendship. I want them to have deep friendships that develop into relationships as they get older.
I want to get to the end of the teen years without emotional baggage or without emotionally bankrupt children.
If I can protect their sweet hearts from it, I will.
Updated on October 5, 2015
Fame Brushing
About 20 years ago, I met Dionne Sanders.
I feel like I spelled his name wrong but I left it to hammer in the point that I’m not sure who he was or why he was famous. My roommate at the time loved him and shared his nickname. (Prime Time). So when I saw him in an airport, I had to get the autograph for her. He signed the paper. He did not make eye contact. He did not leave a very good impression….and I feel strongly he did not care.
This weekend I finally had to opportunity to see my favorite author in person. Everything she does speaks to me and helps me be a better mom/wife/lover of people. Her book, A Modern Girl’s Guide to Bible Study, gave me a love and desire for the word of God. So, I spent the weekend with my Holla Mommas and got to see this woman that really inspires me.
I thought I was cool. I mean, we are virtual BFFs but it’s not like I’m a stalker.
Then she walked in the room and the cool was replaced with a tween-type excitement that would embarrass my children.
JEN HATMAKER
Oh my gosh. How tall do you think she is? Do you think she saw me? Will she be signing autographs? Will she talk tonight? Will she notice that I have on my Tiffany Wade earrings too? Will she want to be my friend?
Should I hold up my sign?
Day 1.
Day 2.
I have the privilege of being a part of a facebook group whose single commonality is that we all love all things Jen Hatmaker. We use that common ground to build relationships. To Laugh (because we all have a similar sense of humor) and to pray. It has been a beautiful community for me, especially with the move. I told the group I made a sign to get her attention and that I was going to hold my sign up without shame.
For two days, I held my sign.
After her fantastic session, I scooted down to the line to meet her.
Me…..and about 200 others stood there with the hope to me her. As we stood, all excited to finally meet our BFF, we visited and laughed. Once again, I found a “community” whose commonality was Jen Hatmaker. I think it is beautiful that this woman had brought us together. In line we talked about children, about family, about missions, about church dating, and about being driven to do so much more.
My new little tribe didn’t get to walk in and meet her. We didn’t get to have anything signed. We didn’t even get to say something witty to elevate our BFF-ness from cyber to real. But I still held my sign….
Then it happened. The fame brushing that excited me more that I should probably admit.
Jen Hatmaker came out to the hallway and walked right by our #the4500 tribe. She is familiar with our group and was so kind to acknowledge we were there. She totally gets that we all think she knows us and is our best friend. She totally gets that we waited to see her to tell her thank you for all the words and laughs.
She walked to us and seemed to match our excitement. She grabbed my hand and we did a girly yell thing and she said “What do I do?”…we commenced posing and selfie-ing for about 30 seconds before she had to move on.
Then we stood there in her wake…checking the pictures we just took….realizing that none of our selfies had our face in them. I got some great pictures of strangers. Instead of being sad we missed that moment, this group began checking pictures and faces and started texting random faces to the phones that matched the faces. It was beautiful. I texted 6 different numbers in the span of 20 minutes. All of women will forever be a part of my fame brushing story.
#the4500 representers!
Looking at me. ***Squeal***
I didn’t get a picture of us together, which is probably best because of the whole “idol” thing. But a sweet chick walked up to me and said…..
“I think this is your hand in this picture.”
And she texted it to me. Documented fame grabbing brushing. YES!!!
Community. It’s real. It can sustain you and hold you up.
Even if it’s in a facebook group.
Even if it only lasts 30 minutes.
Even if it’s just a community of Jen Hatmaker groupies.
