After-Hours Shopping = JOY

Friends, I have to say:  If you’ve never ventured to the mall during the week of Christmas to enjoy Macy’s “open ’till 10″ schedule, or Kohl’s “open ’till midnight” promise, take advantage of it!

Sunday night I managed to peel myself off the couch, against any sane and half-way intelligent cell in my being, and ventured to the mall first, then Meijers for our weekly groceries.   Needless to say, I did not want to go.  I knew it would be crazy.  It was dark.  It was cold.  And I wanted to be home in the coziness of our Christmassy living room.

Only the prospect of no milk in the morning [and the idea of starving, complaining children] made me do it.

And I’m here to tell you–it’s the way to go!!

I went to the mall first, arriving shortly after 9 pm.  Macy’s was like my personal haven.  I felt like Elvis–or possibly Oprah–renting out the entire store for peaceful shopping.  Though I didn’t bother to count, I’m sure I saw fewer than ten other shoppers in the store during my rendezvous at the palace of Origins and the jewelry counter.  Bliss!

Upon leaving Macy’s to go to Kohls, I was gifted with THESE MARVELOUS HALLS…alone.  Ahhh!!

I took a moment to respectfully admire the brilliance of the freshly zambonied floors.  I listened to the sound of nothing. What a lovely thing at Christmas time.  No crowds.  No hustle-n-bustle.  No pushing and shoving and fighting for the deals.  Just me and my thoughts.

After finishing up my few errands at the mall, I embarked on the short trip to Meijers for groceries.  I grabbed a cart around 10 pm and hallelujah! The store was as empty as I’ve ever seen it. [Why am I sharing this??  I should be hoarding and coveting this secret to the grave!]  It almost brought a tear to my eye to not have to jockey my cart around slow-walkers, screaming kids, and people who stop in the middle of the aisle to read their lists.

Lest you don’t believe me, see for yourself:

I’m reaching for a tissue now.

Look at these empty, peaceful aisles!

Christmas music was piping through the still air, my cart worked its way across the linoleum, and my mind was blissfully blank.  [except to take this picture with my phone ]

The wonderful thing about this shopping experience was that the only thing that ever became a hurdle to overcome, were the boxes that were busily being unpacked for the suckers who want to face the crowds in the morning.

As for me, I’d gladly trade in an hour of sleep to gain a day of sanity.

That’s a Merry Christmas.

Things I Don’t Understand Thursday: Cobwebs In The Christmas Tree?!

How can it be, Friends?

The tree hasn’t even been up for a month, and apparently an army of spiders has covertly taken taken up residence in its branches.  These busy little web-builders must be decked in green camo for the holidays, because I haven’t seen even ONE scooting across the carpet or knitting its way to webville.

But be sure:  I am not exaggerating.  The tree is being decked with unwanted tinsel, and the morning light streaming in all glorious and wintery does nothing to hide the tangled mess of spider creativity.

What am I to do??  DUST THE TREE?!

Well, it’s probably a good thing.  I really don’t have much to do at this time of year anyway.

[We Are] Overlooked: final thoughts

Matthew 25:37-40 (The Message)

“When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?? Then the King will say, ‘Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me – you did it to me.”

From Max Lucado’s Cure For The Common Life

“Love the overlooked.”

Jesus sits in your classroom, wearing the thick glasses, outdated clothing, and a sad face. You’ve seen him. He’s Jesus.

Jesus works in your office. Pregnant again, she shows up to work late and tired. No one knows the father. According to water-cooler rumors, even she doesn’t know the father. You’ve seen her. She’s Jesus.

When you talk to the lonely student, befriend the weary mom, you love Jesus. He dresses in the garb of the overlooked and ignored.

You can do that.

Even if your sweet spot has nothing to do with encouraging others, the cure for the common life involves loving the overlooked.”

~

~taken from www.weareoverlooked.com/about; under the section entitled “Where Does The Name Come From?”

[We Are] Overlooked

I happened upon a wonderful organization the other day that captured by imagination and my heart.  It’s called Overlooked, and it’s all about delivering justice to those in this world who are overlooked everyday by their governments, neighbors, politicians, and brother and sister human beings.

The “About” page sums it up:

~
“We are not a charity.

We are not a ministry.

We are not seeking donations.

We simply want to offer you easy, practical ways to help people that have been overlooked and make the world a better place.

When you buy our merchandise you allow us to provide children in Africa with mosquito nets and clean water.

You allow us to free young girls in India from sexual slavery.

You allow us to loan money to women in poverty to start new businesses for a chance to support their own families.

We are more than just another charity, ministry or t-shirt company.

We are Overlooked.”

~

I think that’s just awesome.  Why not consider buying or gifting a t-shirt or handbag this Christmas and spending money that will move forward in the world to make a difference.  Throw yourself into the pond and made some waves–or at least, some ripples.  Get people thinking.  Imagine that $5 could change a life.  Save a life.  Add hope to a life.  After all, isn’t that what Christmas is really about?  Life and hope?

Click here, look around, get out your plastic, become a walking justice sign.

No School!

Ah, the childlike joy of having school canceled–what thrill can compare in the mind of a 6 or 7 year old? Yesterday our kids had an unexpected day off due to a power-outage in their elementary building, followed up [with glee] by a snow BLIZZARD day today!  Such sweet, unwrapped, intangible gifts are received with smiles as wide as Montana skies in summer, and our kids couldn’t wait to dive into a day in the kitchen with mom.  Love that.

In the spirit of sharing, I’m posting my mom’s luscious Cinnamon Roll Recipe today and am inviting you to give them a try.  They’re easy, deee-licious, and fun to do with helping hands.  I must begin by saying that I acknowledge the hideous nature of the photos below.  I took them one-handed with my cell phone because the battery on our real camera was dead.  So, the lighting is terrible, the colors unacceptable and unedited, and the sharpness, well, they’re not sharp.  But hey–I never claimed to be a photographer   You’ll still get the idea!

For a Breakfast Party in Your Mouth, You’ll Need:

1 bag of frozen white bread dough [I used a 3-loaf pack of Rhodes]

Copious amounts of brown sugar

Plenty of cinnamon

Raisins if you like them

dental floss for a cutting trick

 

1. Thaw and roll out bread loaf. [tip: dust counter with flour first! Then spread with butter.

2. Sprinkle lots of brown sugar over buttered-dough.

3. My brown sugar in the forefront. Lots. of. sugar THEN, follow with a generous all-over sprinkling of cinnamon.

4. If you like raisins, soak them in hot water first to soften and plump them. Then, add copious amounts to your rolls. For me, a cinnamon roll just isn't a cinnamon roll without raisins.

5. Roll dough lengthwise in preparation for cutting. Above: my non-raisin rolls which were delivered to a friend, and all manners of cooking crap in the background. Ignore my junk!

6. Ready to cut. Tip: slide dental floss under roll. Lift both ends and criss-cross, making sure the floss touches in the middle. In a quick motion, pull the criss-cross for a nice, non-roll-squishing cut.

7. Me "floss-cutting" the rolls. Best idea ever! Thanks, Mom!

8. Arrange rolls in pan, leaving space for them to rise. Crucial!!

9. Cover pan and set on stovetop while you preheat the oven to 350*. The warmth seems to speed the process. Let them rise until they fill the pan! See below.

10. When your rolls are nice and puffy, stick them in the oven for roughly 15 minutes or until very lightly browned. Too dark = hard and crispy! Trust me, that is NOT what you want.

To end, mix up some powdered sugar + milk frosting and drizzle over warm rolls.  Enjoy with your family…just don’t give yourself a stomach ache by eating too many like someone I know did this morning.  It makes doing yoga a little uncomfortable!

What I Can’t Carry

Today I just needed a little time.  Some space to breathe and room to think.  Looking outside, the gray ceiling of clouds promised a harsh cold, but I didn’t care.  I found my running shoes, clicked my dog to his leash, and opened the door.

It felt really good to go for a walk alone–and for the first time in many months–without my iPod.  Because what I heard today was a new kind of silence:

no, this is not me photo credit: http://weather.thefuntimesguide.com/2009/02/northern_lights_aurora_borealis.php

heels crunching into snow.

the scratch of hood on hair in rhythm with my stride.

buzzing electrical lines.

a far-off bird.

Reuben’s paws click-clicking on pavement.

my own breath.

wind in skeletal grasses, tall alongside the road.

the whir of cars racing past.

the rub of dog leash against gloved hands.

~

God was calming my soul.

I knew when I left the house that I had a lot to unload.  Today in church we sang a song that I love, with a line that says that [Jesus is] “…gonna take what I can’t carry no more.”  What we sing is a bluesy and wonderfully re-written version of Amos Lee’s Black River. And it had me thinking as I sliced through the winter afternoon.

Maybe I’m the only one who struggles with “carrying”.  Maybe it’s easier for you to lay something down at Jesus’ feet and just walk away.  But I’m finding that there are one or two things that seem to sprout seedlings in my heart even after I try and try to tear them out.  Why does my mind persist in reminding me of the hurts and disappointments and measuring sticks? 

With wind numbing my ears and stinging my eyes, I rounded another corner.  I turned “the seedlings” around in my mind and weighed my options.  I thought about love and wondered what it means to act lovingly when you feel injured.  How do you know when love would confront, gently, and speak honestly?  How do you know when love would leave it alone?  Choose to overlook?

In 1Peter 4:8 the Bible says, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”  So I considered packing up my feelings and stuffing them in a Tupperware container, snapping on the lid, and lodging it into the back corner of the freezer.  I would deal with these feelings by myself–sharing them with my husband, of course–but not approaching those directly involved.  I would trust God with my heart and remember my great worth in His eyes.  But I would not unearth my feelings in the context of a conversation with the salt-rubbers.  Because love covers over a multitude of sins, and I should love them and not seek recourse in confrontation.

My other option was sitting down with them and, like coffee thumped over by a thoughtless hand motion, let my thoughts spill out on the table between us.  Let them sit there and bleed into the tablecloth and dry as a stain.  A muddy blob of emotion laid bare.  Ephesians 4:26 says, “In your anger do not sin” : Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.”  Except the sun has gone down many times.  I guess I’m sinning.

The struggle is that relationships look easy on paper, but we all know that in real life they are complex balls of connections and history and love and trust and vulnerability.  Maybe I think I’m ready to unravel that ball, but to be honest, the thought of approaching a table to drain myself is terrifying.  It makes the inside of my heart feel spooned out and hollow.  My palms start to sweat and I am filled with worry.

So, for now I’ve decided that “…the bitter pill I swallow is the silence that I keep.”  [Ghost, Indigo Girls]

For now I will try to stop carrying.  I will try to trust that Christ not only will carry it for me, but that He actually wants to do it.

I will remember that my worth does not require the validation of the world and a select few of its inhabitants.

That it is measured not by rulers and yardsticks, but by two beams that were hoisted up as the greatest demonstration of love the world has ever known.

I will keep walking and enjoying the crunch of the snow and the sound of my dog next to me.

I will swallow the pill and work on my own heart.

I will work on loving.

Things I Don’t Understand Thursday: Real-Life Ignorers

Isn’t she cute?  My daughter, that is

What’s not cute to me is what’s happening in the background [since I'm considerate and decent, I blotted out their faces].  I understand needing to check your phone in case the babysitter calls to tell you the house is on fire or your child is suspended from the ceiling fan, but this woman sat fingers-to-phone for at least 20 minutes! [Yes, I unofficially timed her.]

This real-life ignoring is reaching epidemic proportions.  You see it in restaurants, airports, at the mall–even in church!  [SHAME!]  And while it can be argued that we have progressed as a society–that we enjoy more conveniences and are more “connected”, this photo exemplifies my point: are we really “more connected” when we ignore life happening around us?

Notice her husband/boyfriend/companion in the brown shirt.  He is thoughtfully and fully engaged in conversation with the other couple.  Red shirt lady is leaning forward on the table, apparently hanging on his every word.  Meanwhile, Clarice is fingering her way into Carpel Tunnel Syndrome and being the latest friend voted off the island of real life.

What kind of message is she sending to her husband?  To her friends?  Even to me–a stranger secretly taking a picture “of my daughter”–the message I’m getting is that the people around her don’t matter as much as the next ring of the phone.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of being over-connected.  To wade too deeply into the cyber-sea.  It’s a diversion.  It makes shopping easy.  It’s fun to update your Facebook status and check your email.  It’s enjoyable for me to sit here and blog.

But if it comes to the point that my real, 3D life–my children and husband and friends–have to compete with my phone…slap me.  Having a loving community around you is too important to gamble on a text message!

Quote, Unquote…Again

Yesterday my youngest had a couple of cute moments–have to record them since I’ve done a pathetic job with his baby book share them with you!

1.  Our little guy has an adorable lisp [s's] and can’t quite seem to pronounce a few of his letters.   When he’s talking, things sound sort of like this:

quad= todd;  dirt bike = dirt bite [our boys are obsessed with quads and dirt bikes!]

grandma = ramma

milk = milt

chicken = titten

Since he just turned four a couple of weeks ago, it’s not something we’re worried about yet– it still sounds cute to me!

Today, however, a few of his words came out crystal clear!  He said “quad” the way it’s supposed to be pronounced!  Then he said something else and it came out perfectly!  I looked at him and said, “M!!  Say that again!  You did it!  You made your sounds!”

He looked back at me and said–very seriously– “Yeah, God healed me.”

2.  Same little boy, different situation!  When I picked him up from preschool he asked me if we were going to see Dr. Kik–my chiropractor.  I told him that I had already gone and thought little of it.  That’s when the drama started.  Sobs.  Fake and forced, yet somehow producing tears.  Maybe they were partially real–but certainly coerced.  Finally, after trying to ignore him patiently let him calm down–which he did NOT–I decided to probe.

“Honey–I didn’t realize you liked Dr. Kik so much!  I’m sorry–next time I’ll make sure to take you.”

Sob, sob…crocodile tears…

“Babe!  Please calm down!  You can come along next time.”

Cry, cry, ball, ball.

“M, I didn’t know you wanted to go along to Dr. Kik!”

His response?

“I wanted to get some of his ca-ca-caaaannnnddddyyyyy!”

Silly me.

Here I thought he had formed a bond with my kind doctor.  Thought he enjoyed the fake skeleton in the corner.  The medieval-like back crackers.

Nope.

He wanted candy.

So glad he has his priorities straight.

Move Over Nate Berkus!!

DRUM ROLL, PLEASE!!

I am proud to applaud the work of my husband and the strides we made on our poor, pathetic, ghetto bedroom of yore.

Tonight I feel like I will be going to bed at some 4-star hotel!  [Maybe I'll bump that up to 5-stars after the artwork is chosen and ordered].  I wish you could feel how puffy and soft and cozy our new comforter is!  And all those pillows!  Luxury!

Here are some before and afters:

BEFORE:

Not terrible, but bed-on-the-floor doesn't really scream "love den" to me. And the old rocker was taking up valuable real estate.

NOW

Now: Soothing colors and a BEDFRAME!! Hooray! Light-blocking curtains! Three cheers!

NOW

Check out my husband's mad carpentry skills! What? Carter Oosterhouse?! We love the wainscoting and the texture and depth it brings to the room. Still need a bed skirt.

BEFORE:

So glad to have the too-small random stuff off the walls!

NOW

A little different angle here, but you can see how clean/minimal everything is.

A huge thanks to Brandon who gave up his whole Thanksgiving weekend [plus some] to measure, cut, saw, sand, glue, nail, prime, and paint!   I feel so lucky to finally have a bedroom that, to me, feels like a retreat.

The Biography Channel

Last night while Norm Peterson my husband was upstairs working on our bedroom renovation/redecoration, I got sucked into several hours of the Biography Channel.  I’m pretty confident that I can now tell you just about anything you need to know about Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Sheryl Crow, or the upcoming special about celebrity encounters with ghosts.  Critical information.

One of the segments I really enjoyed was a program called “Johnny Cash America” and included all sorts of amazing video footage of his life.  In it, certain portions had voice-overs by Johnny himself, lending a rather eerie quality to the old film.  His unmistakable voice and larger-than-life persona made me hunger to know more about someone I had previously only encountered via Joaquin Phoenix in Hollywood’s Walk the Line.

One of the things Johnny said about faith got my attention, making me stop to grab a pen.  I rewound the DVR to get the words just right.  Maybe you’ll find them to be profound, as well:

“What is man if he doesn’t have a spirit, and what is man’s spirit if it cannot connect with the Master of Life?”

~

Later, in the Willie Nelson biography, Kris Kristofferson praised his friend as the kindest, funniest individual he’s ever known.  He lauded Willie’s “outlaw” style of blazing his own trail and not falling into the easy traps of sounding like someone else, dressing like other Nashville stars, or wearing his hair like most country stars of the 50’s & 60’s did.  But it was, again, one sentence that struck me as especially meaningful.  Kris said this about Willie:

“[Willie] wears the world like a loose garment.”

~

Both of these quotes have stuck with me today.  In particular, I’ve been thinking about the last one and about whether the same will ever be said about me.  That I was in the world, but not of the world.  That I engaged fully in this place, but was not tossed about aimlessly by the quickly-shifting winds of culture and expectations.  That I wore the world like a loose garment: draping myself in it, but not constrained by it.  Not confined or limited.  Not bound by the seams, stitches, whims of another.

To me, that’s a beautiful thought.