The Perfect Pair

I'm not a clotheshorse by nature. I've only gotten 1 new pair of jeans in about 2 or 3 years. Don't get me wrong, I like shopping, but the conditions have to be perfect for me to enjoy myself. (I won't go into that now, because that is a story in itself.) Recently, we discovered that we have some major plumbing problems. At this point, they don't directly affect our daily lives except in one way: we can't use our washing machine. ARG! I have many issues with piles of dirty laundry, but the biggest specific issue for me is that I have a very limited amount of clothing. To be specific, I have only 1 pair of blue jeans. (There are multiple reasons for this.) This is a real problem for a blue jean girl who has no way to wash her jeans every day. I realized the magnitude of my problem shortly after the plumbing discovery. So, after much debate and argument with myself, I went shopping.


To be quite honest, it was grueling. I started at Old Navy. I tried on 2 pair of jeans and fled the store. I grit my teeth and decided to go to the mall. My husband encouraged me to try again as I left every store frustrated, angry, and toward the end of the outing, in tears. I finally stopped in a large department store and decided to give it one more shot. I had to have something to wear!

Three more pair with no luck. I dragged myself from the dressing room and heard my name being called from the other side of the store. My husband was waving frantically to get me attention. He had found a large display of jeans and felt sure I would find what I needed. After waving a hideous pair of straight-legged, elastic waist, denim grandma pants (his idea of a very funny joke) in my face, he led me to a large Levi's display. I was skeptical, but I shrugged and picked up 3 pair.

Back in the dressing room, I tried on the first pair. Ugh! No way! I quickly stripped them off and pulled on the second pair. It was incredible! It was like the lights of heaven shined on me, the angels began singing the "Hallelujah " chorus. I had found the perfect pair! Thank you Levi Strauss! My perfect pair: Levis 545s.

How about you? Have you ever found the perfect pair?

So They Will Know

her·it·age: [her-i-tij] –noun
something that comes or belongs to one by reason of birth; an inherited lot or portion: a heritage of poverty and suffering; a national heritage of honor, pride, and courage.


Today I went to an assembly at my children’s school. It was in honor of Veteran’s Day and in celebration of Oklahoma’s 100th birthday. Children, parents, teachers, and other school staff packed into the dark auditorium. The stage, lit only with a small circle of light, was decorated with the Stars and Stripes and flags of Oklahoma. Projected on each wall perpendicular to the stage was a large American Flag of light.

The assembly began with the presentation of the flag. The JROTC Color Guard marched up on the stage and we pledged allegiance to our flag. Children presented responses to questions they had asked current and former service men and women. The orchestra played “America the Beautiful,” followed by the band who played “Anchors Away” in honor of the guest speaker: a plucky 82 year old WWII veteran and 40 year Oklahoma educator. He spoke of the importance of education and military service. We saw a slide show of past and present wars, watched a touching video of Native America, and sang “Oklahoma” with the choir.

My eyes got misty off and on as I saw pictures of veterans and heard their words. Of course that is not uncommon for me--my eyes usually get watery during the pledge. I felt grateful to be there, grateful that my children were able to take part in the celebration and remembrance of our country’s hard working protectors. But of all that was said and done, I was the most moved when people all around the auditorium stood in acknowledgement of their service or a family member’s service. Looking around me, I could see a beautiful heritage passed through families within my United States, within my Oklahoma.

I wondered if my children know and can truly appreciate their heritage. They never met one of my grandfathers, as he died when I was only 10. I have a handful of memories of him. I can still hear his voice and his laugh. I can see him tower above me. He left a beautiful heritage for my family, but they will never know him. All they have from him is the legacy he passed to me. And so I question: What is my heritage? With what legacy will I leave my children? Before I can know that, I have to identify what legacy I want to leave. I have never served my country in the military, but I hope my children will understand honor, sacrifice, and service. I want them to see courage and determination, hard work and perseverance. I want them to honor the sacrifice of others and be full of patriotism. Beyond that, I also want to leave a legacy of love and compassion. I want give them a legacy of Christ and godliness.

Every day I wonder what I am teaching them. I wonder what they see in me. I hope they see not perfection, but one who admits her faults and strives to turn her weaknesses into strengths.

As we drove home from school, I told them about all of our family members who have served our country. We spoke of what a proud and beautiful heritage they have been given through military persons and non-military alike. I will continue to remind them so that they can pass the same beautiful stories, the same rich heritage to their children.


Our military heritage (in part):

Papa Joe
Army
WWI

Grandpa (Ralph Wright)
Navy
WWII

Grandaddy Downey
Army
WWII

Grandaddy Crow
Army
WWII

Joe Matt Macon
Coast Guard

Tiffany Amey
Army

Stephanie Soule
Army

Randall Wright
Air Force
Army
Iraq


Thank you.

Tonight I made alfredo sauce from scratch. It was glorious! The fam loved it. I was very excited.

I have to say it was relatively easy to do. I cook all the time. I try all kinds of recipes (not from a box) all the time, and they turn out great. I don't know why I never tried it before. I think partially it's that exotic sounding names intimidate me, which is absolutely ridiculous!

I know a new recipe success is not really that big of a deal, but sometimes it is. And THIS is one of those times.

Chatterbox

Do you have a chatterbox in your house? I do! My son, God bless his little heart, is seriously about to send me to Vinita. I'm not kidding.

He talks constantly. I don't think he even breathes. I mean, I can't ever hear him take a breath. All I hear is an endless flow of words. WORDS. Words are running out my ears. I can't imagine how anyone actually has that much to say. When I tell him he needs to hush, he thinks that means he needs to change the subject. Or to say "Mom" and wait for a response. Then as I'm taking deep breaths and talking my self out of running down the street, ripping clothes from my body, and pulling all my hair out, I swear he is THINKING of something to say that sounds urgent enough that he needed to disobey the "stop talking!" command.

Sometimes I wish I were deaf. Just for a while. Just long enough to get a reprieve.

Do I sound mean? I'm sorry. You're probably right. I'm an ogre. You probably need to rescue my poor child from me.

He's sweet and you'll love to have him around. Until you need some silence.

A walk through Matthew

I go to a bible study on Tuesday mornings. I love it. We delve more deeply into scripture than I have ever done before in my entire life. I find it truly exciting and enlightening.

We are working our way through Matthew. Right now we are studying the Sermon on the Mount. I am so entrigued by the things we are learning. One of the things our leader said today is that the Sermon on the Mount is the counterpart to the Ten Commandments--it is the inward form and original intent of the Ten Commandments. This information was a complete revelation to me.

When God gave Moses the Ten Commandments, he didn't intend for them to just be rules for behavior--contrary to the conception I've had my entire life. God's entire intent has always been and always will be the heart of humankind. He doesn't want to see how well we can follow a bunch of rules, but rather, He wants our hearts to be turned toward Him so that in love we want to please Him. We need no rules if we would just love God first and love and treat people the way God loves and treats us.

The loving other people part wasn't a revelation. But the reasoning behind it was. The whole doing it out of love thing. You see, I brought a lot of baggage into my relationship with God. I viewed Him in light of my human experience. That's probably no big surprise. I think most people probably do that, but most people probably recognize earlier in their spiritual experience than I did, that God is not like humans, and our relationship with Him will not be like our relationships with other humans.

I've been working through that for some time now. This Ten Commandment/Sermon on the Mount business is just one more piece in my giant life puzzle. I want you to understand that I had a very skewed view of what love was. In light of that, let me explain to you the things I thought about God:

*I thought God was all about rules and regulations. I thought God was standing over me, watching everything I did, waiting to pounce when I made a mistake. My entire life I have tried unsuccessfully to obey every rule to, I guess, earn His affections. It is still a struggle for me at times.
*I therefore thought God's love was conditional. I thought that every time I messed up, He no longer loved me.
*I thought I could not count on God. Every human in my life had failed me over and over--I thought God would too. (This is my most recent internal battle. I'm still working on it.)
*I thought God would use me for His own pleasure and then, when he was through,
*I thought he would abandon me.

There are several other things I realize I projected onto God, but I think you get the drift.

I tell you all of that to tell you that this study of Matthew, of Christ, is incredibly moving and life changing for me. I am seeing Christ as something different than I ever have. If I can be honest about how I really feel about it, I'd have to tell you that I'm pretty terrifed. I hate being vulnerable. I hate feeling exposed. It makes me fell helpless.

I was abused for many years in my childhood. I felt helpless. At some point I decided that I would never be helpless again. I decided that I would never again be in the position where someone could have power over me--power to hurt me, power to crush me, power to rob me, power to drain life from me. Maybe you can see why breaking down walls and allowing God to have power over my life (or really just admit to myself that he has power over my life) is extraordianrily hard for me. I realize that for years I have lived with God at arms length, trying to make him happy with my behavior, but never allowing him close enough to move in me, because then he'd be close enough to hurt me.

As I walk through Matthew, I understand more, and I am more and more amazed at the person of Christ. I am amazed at his extraordinary love and sacrifice. I am even more amazed as I realize he has faced the things I have. He was misunderstood and abandoned. I feel like I have lived my whole life that way.

I feel the walls weakening.

I think I might be just beginning to get the hang of this blogging thing. It still has the feeling of a new shoe. It's not quite comfortable, but you can tell that once you really break it in, you'll never want to throw it away. Maybe.

Over the last several days, I can't count how many times something has happened and I've thought to myself, "I've got to write about that." But I haven't. I'm not sure why, except maybe that I feel like it might be too trivial or weird, or I don't want to sound grouchy or.......... Feels sort of like an excuse. Actually its not that I haven't worked on them, but rather I haven't finished them. So I think I'll try to finish them. And then I'll post them. Maybe.

Right now though, I'm sitting at my computer, wanting to sort through all of the things flying through my head, but my children are demanding my attention, the stack of papers beside me is cause horrible guilt, the evil eye of the unwashed laundry is staring at me from behind the door, and... And. There's always an and. It seems my time is never mine. That's the life of a mother is what some would tell me. I'm a little skeptical.

I'm going to try to focus. I really want to jot some things down that have been on my heart and mind. Stay tuned.