A Mother Is a Warrior

My little one spent four days at Texas Children's Hospital. It's a wonderful hospital with special people working to bring children back to health. But I hope to never return.

Our stay began two Fridays ago (Valentine's weekend) after a trip to the ER. Michael had been cranky that week, not wanting to be put down. That was highly unusual for my active baby boy, so I was not surprised when he developed a fever. We took him to see his pediatrician two days in a row, but Michael's illness was dismissed initially as teething, then, after some swelling in his eye, as a virus.

I wanted to believe the doctors and tried to dismiss my feelings of dread as the anxiety of a first-time mother. I also didn't want negative things written in my son's chart, because who knows what goes in there? What if he really got sick one day but I wasn't taken seriously because I was demeed as uncooperative in an earlier visit? I just wanted to be nice and have a good relationship with everyone at the pediatric clinic.

But on the third day, Michael's eye swelled completely shut. I could barely see the tips of his long lashes. I called the pediatric office to have someone tell me what to do, since they clearly hadn't thought it was a big deal. I tried not to panic and waited for a nurse to call me back. My heart fell just a little once I talked to her because her tone of voice suggested a distracted worker that felt bothered by a needlessly anxious mother. She said she'd have to talk to the doctor.

After waiting for about 45 minutes, I let go of any desire to be "nice." I was exhausted from lack of sleep due to my sick baby, and just plain irritated that my concerns had been belittled all week. I'd tried to keep my cool and be nice to everyone, but I felt that being "nice" to strangers was being unkind to my son. So I called the doctor's office again and demanded to speak to a nurse because my son was rapidly getting worse and I needed to know if it was serious. After waiting another half hour, we left for the ER.

The nurse finally called back as we were on our way. I told her thanks, but no thanks, we'd decided to go to the ER. The nurse was beyond irritated with me at this point and showed it when she said that the doctor had just told her that he would need to see "her" again. Because there are a lot of "hers" named Michael. (Yes, there are some, but it's not the norm.)

This was the last straw for me. After giving Michael's information three times, the nurse still hadn't taken a good look (if any) at Michael's chart. She probably hadn't seen that we'd been to their clinic the previous two days and was clearly bothered by this woman on the phone demanding her attention.

(Here's where I have to say that I understand irritated callers. I had a job many years ago where I had to take calls from customers having trouble with their computer systems. If they had to call about a problem, they were already in a bad mood. I expected it and just talked them through it.)

Back to our story...I received no sympathy or empathy from the nurse. I asked if the doctor would be able to see Michael right away. I will never forget her tone of voice as she said that "she" would have to wait for more than an hour. It took every ounce of civility in me to say that we would just go to the ER. But it wasn't enough because the nurse hung up on me.

So I pushed aside thoughts of our FORMER pediatrician and focused on the ER. After a CT scan, the doctor found what appeared to be an abscess in Michael's right eye socket, which told him that there was an infection around the eye. They take that sort of thing very seriously because there's a danger that the eye would become infected, too, requiring surgery and a possible loss of vision.

So they put an IV in (awful experience, just imagine your baby screaming in fear and pain and knowing that it had to be done) to give him antibiotics intravenously and sent us to TCH in an ambulance.

I cried as Michael got the IV. And I cried as his car seat was strapped to the gurney for the trip to TCH. I was scared for my little one and wondering if there was something that the doctor wasn't telling us. At TCH we were told that Michael would be in the hospital for at least five days, so I knew that it would be an exhausting week. I was already running on empty and didn't know where I would find the strength for the coming week. I was afraid that I would finally pass out from exhaustion and not be able to wake when my baby needed me.

My brother-in-law's wife is a nurse at TCH and lives close by, so she met us in the ER with my mother-in-law, bearing food and Tylenol (for me). She helped us know what to expect and smoothed the way for us, which we so appreciated. The next four days were rough for me and Garrett, but Michael's fever came under control and the swelling in his eye went down. We were so happy to see both of his big beautiful blue eyes (I love alliteration).

We were discharged from the hospital early and sent home to give Michael oral antibiotics. We also have to irrigate his nose twice a day (think of a neti pot from h-e-double hockey sticks). Not fun, but we've learned that Michael won't always be happy about decisions we make concerning him. He won't always understand that sometimes we have to allow something unpleasant in his life to protect him from something worse.

That was a lesson I needed, in more ways than one. Sometimes I've had my feelings hurt when it seemed like God wasn't paying attention to me during difficult times. I won't know on this side of eternity how many ways He protected me while I pouted over hurt feelings.

I also learned that I can't value "niceness" over "kindness." It's not necessarily nice to hold my son still so that my husband can irrigate his nose. And it sure didn't seem nice to allow nurses to work at getting another IV into his tiny veins. But it was the kind thing to do and protected him from further illness.

So let the world be warned: I will not allow the expectation of "niceness," of wanting people to like me, to control me and dictate my actions, especially concerning my son. God formed my little one in my womb, giving me a divine appointment as Michael's mother. Being a mother is not for the faint of heart and sometimes requires fierceness. As a mother, I'm a warrior, fighting for the best for my child. I desire wonderful relationships with everyone that I come in contact with, but I will not allow "niceness" to edge out kindness in regards to my family.

Look at this face. Home from the hospital and happy to see his toys. Who wouldn't be kind to him? But those who aren't better watch out...there's a warrior assigned to him.

A Mother Is a Warrior

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/mother-is-warrior.html

My dream has come true!

"I'M FREE! I'M FREEEEE!!"

That's pretty much what I texted to my husband last Friday as I walked out of work for the last time. Over the holidays my husband and I decided that it would be best for our family for me to resign from my job and become a stay-at-home mom. Because, in case you didn't know, being a working mother is JUST A BIT HARD. I won't bore you with all the gory details of what a nightmare it's been to try to be a good wife and mother while working for a company that only paid lip-service to employee work/life balance. So I'll bore you with only a few details: massive stress, lots of tears, exhaustion, and barely surviving.

I'm stressed out and exhausted just writing about it.

(shaking it off)

SO ANYWAY, my experience as a working mother was not a good one. I'm not going to say that it's more difficult than being a SAHM. I'm also not going to say that being a SAHM is more difficult than being a working mother, although it seems like I hear "Being a SAHM is the hardest job in the world" every time I turn around. My (pretty worthless) opinion is that people that say that are usually making a veiled jab at working mothers (the words "passive aggressive" come to mind). And I'm sure that's born out of the belief that SAHM's are not valued or appreciated. The bottom line is that every situation is different and we shouldn't judge someone until we've walked in their shoes and don't judge a book by its cover and i before e except after c...I think I lost my way there, but my very long-winded point is "Being a parent is the hardest job in the world" and I'll leave it at that.

MOVING RIGHT ALONG.....I'm so excited to finally be able to focus on my family. I've got plans. Big plans. But I'm trying to rein myself in by focusing on a few important things:

• Spending time with my husband. Garrett and I have been in Survival Mode for far too long. Before I resigned from my job, every minute of my day was spoken for. We hardly ever went on dates anymore. And even just laughing over silly things had become a rare occurrence because I was always too stressed to relax. But we are committed to changing that and making time for each other.
• Spending time with my son. Even though I worked from home a lot, I needed to turn care of my son over to a nanny so I could, you know, WORK. I can't tell you how it broke my heart to hear him laughing and having fun during the day, and then being too tired/stressed/exhausted to play with him for the little bit of time I had him before bedtime. That in itself was enough to keep me in a constant state of depression.
• Making home a sanctuary. It got to the point that the only time the house looked presentable was when we were expecting someone over. Which meant that a lot needed to be done to make it that way. Which meant that I had an all new reason to be stressed and to stress out my husband. I want better for my family.
• Getting healthy. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes fifteen extra pounds. Then comes a baby in a baby carriage along with a few more pounds. The stress and downright lack of time has not aided my efforts at weight loss. Ask Dr. Oz. He'll tell you.
• Deepening relationships. Survival Mode does not include meeting friends at Starbucks, taking a walk with a neighbor, or even going to Bible study. If I don't get friend time, and soon, I'll have to create imaginary friends. And there's no guarantee that they'll even like me.
• Becoming a better follower of Christ. I put this at the end of the list to show that I've let it fall to the wayside lately. And I hate that. I won't be able to do any of the things above if I don't stay connected to my Savior. And, quite frankly, I miss Him. I still pray and cry out to Him and have felt His comfort and guidance, but I've missed all of the focused time I used to spend on my relationship with Him. I need that back. And my family needs for me to get it back, too.

I do plan on contributing to my family financially by doing some type of part-time work eventually. But Garrett and I have agreed that I need at least a couple of months to get my bearings at home and get into some sort of rhythm. And did I forget to mention that baby boy is teething? And has had a nasty cold? And started crawling at five months? And hasn't stopped since?

It's a good thing he's so cute.

In the meantime......need financial advice? Contact my husband, Garrett, at http://www.thesingingfinancialadvisor.com/! (Hey, gotta keep the lights on, you know?)

My dream has come true!

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-dream-has-come-true.html

By the way, I'm not fishing for a compliment

"I can live for two months on a good compliment."

Mark Twain

I orginally intended this post to be about resolutions I would not make for 2010, but who needs to begin a year with such negativity? And, quite frankly, Michael doesn't nap long enough for me to create a list of such length.

So, instead, I would like to share with you one resolution that I will make: I hereby declare (echo echo echo) that 2010 (echo echo echo) shall be The Year of the Good Compliment ! (echo echo echo)

In my very humble opinion, we don't hear enough nice and sincere things about ourselves. In Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts says about the words people say to us, "The bad stuff is easier to believe." When I first heard that, I felt a bit heartbroken because I knew it to be true.  But I submit to you that Good Compliments can dim the memory of ugly words. The more I think about it, the more I think that giving a Good Compliment is one of the kindest and worthwhile things that I can do.

But a compliment is not kind and worthwhile if it's just flattery. The difference between a Good Compliment and flattery is veracity and motivation. If I say, "My hair is all jacked up" because I see copious amounts of frizz and random pieces sticking out like twigs in a mudpie, but my husband responds with, "No, it looks great," I know that he's just saying that to get us out the door and in the car. It's not kind because if I went out like that people might start looking for a tin cup to drop money into. And it's not worthwhile because I would just give him a dirty look and sit back down to get to work on my tossled tresses.

(By the way, my husband has never done that.)

(At least I don't think so.)

Good Compliments are easily recognizable and remembered for months and maybe even years. For example, about four or five years ago my sister Julissa complimented me after a Sunday School class for not skipping over the topic of fasting in our study of Matthew and doing my best to make it interesting. Notice that I remember the details of the compliment and not just that she said a nice thing.

So I resolve that I will do the same: look for a positive thing to say about someone, compliment them on it, and follow up the compliment with an explanation. An example could be, "You are such a good mommy. I can tell that you put a lot of effort into preparing for your son's birthday party. The invitations and decorations were just adorable." Or, "You are a great friend. You could have been doing a million other things during your free time, but you chose to stay and keep me company."

Those are two real-life examples of good things about people I know. But here's the sad part: I told the first person only half of the compliment, and didn't give the second person the compliment at all, even though I thought it. Why is that? Why can it be so difficult to tell people nice things? Does anybody have any thoughts about that? Please share in the comments.

By the way, I'm not fishing for a compliment

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/by-way-im-not-fishing-for-compliment.html

Emptying my brain before falling asleep

It's 2am, and my brain has officially slowed to a crawl. I'm listening to the rustle of my little one moving around in his crib. I say "rustle," but I really mean "the slightest noise amplified unnaturally by a baby monitor made for worriers like me." Shhhhh....he's still now. Oh blessed sleep.

I should be asleep too, because if history has taught me anything it's that I'll be listening to a crying baby in about three hours. Then we'll have our first cuddle of the day as I consider that I'm such a privileged mommy to have such a wonderful baby boy.

So I should be in la-la land right now, dreaming about poopy diapers or that annoying little song that the Jumperoo plays over and over and over again, punctuated by elephant and monkey sounds. But a tornado watch flashed up on the TV screen a few hours ago, and I immediately went to red alert.

Actually, I first tried to figure out which is worse, a tornado warning or a tornado watch? I always get those confused. Because a warning could mean, "Hey, I'm warning you that a tornado, it's a-coming!" But a watch could mean, "I'm watching a tornado right now! Run for your lives!" And then I thought, "Whatever! I see the word 'tornado' and that can't be good!"

So once my internal red alert was established, I pictured myself hearing the wind pick up and running to Michael's room to swoop him up in a motherly football hold in preparation to fly down to the closet under the stairs, kicking the dog and cats out of my way, and screaming for Garrett to follow me. Because I'm thoughtful like that.

Understandably, that mental state was not conducive to sleep. A panic attack...yes. Slumber...not so much.

I decided to stay awake for a while longer and see how this whole tornado situation panned out. It reminded me of the first few nights that we had Michael home. He was so teeny tiny in the bassinet. More often that not, I slept at the foot of the bed so that I could rest my hand on his chest and make sure he was still breathing.

I remember thinking that I wanted to just stay awake and watch over him, knowing that it was impossible to sustain that level of watchfulness for long. I was so frustrated with the limitations of my humanity. But almost immediately I remembered that God "will neither slumber nor sleep." And it hit home like never before that nothing catches Him by surprise.

Oh boy, was I relieved. I still watch over Michael, and have even sat in the rocking chair in his room a time or two while he slept. But rather than watching and fretting, I watch and ponder. I ponder the turn my life has taken the last few years, the fulfilled dreams of a loving husband and beautiful child, and the knowledge that I can go to my own room to sleep and leave Michael in better hands.

Speaking of sleep, it's now 2:45am and I need to sleep while I can! Here's to hoping that my dreams involve something other than diapers and baby toys.

Emptying my brain before falling asleep

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/12/emptying-my-brain-before-falling-asleep.html

What does one do while waiting for a dream to come true?

The waiting is almost over. We’re scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning at 6am, otherwise known as the butt crack of dawn. Praying that they still have a bed available for us at that time.

That leaves us about 18 hours of anxiousness to occupy with the mundane. Our chosen brand of mundane is sleep. Which shouldn’t be difficult considering the lack of sleep that we’ve been dealing with lately, but here I am on my computer so you can see that already things aren’t going according to plan.

Garrett, on the other hand, is napping on the couch. I can’t tell you how much I love to watch that man sleep. He’s just the cutest thing. And he certainly deserves to catch a few z’s. I knew when I married him that I was a lucky woman, but after the way he’s taken care of me the last nine months I can assure you that I am married to the best husband ever. There was no way for us to predict how sick I’d be during this pregnancy, but he just went with it, taking care of me, our pets, the house, and working at building up his new business all at the same time.

Garrett is the kind of man that any mother would want for her daughter. He’s the kind of man that I want for my sisters and friends. And he’s the kind of man that I would love to see Michael grow into. Just to be clear, please allow me to list some traits that describe exactly the kind of man I mean, in no particular order:

• Hard-working
• Intelligent
• Funny
• Kind to friends and strangers
• Smiling eyes
• Takes whatever God teaches him to heart
• And he’s just darling

He also sings like an angel, but there aren’t many guys that can sing like him. So good luck finding that in someone else.

I waited a long time for Garrett. I never thought I’d enter my thirties without a husband or children, and there were definitely some lonely times. But God used that time well. I grew so much closer to Him, had opportunities for ministry and travel, developed great friendships, and was able to devote some quality time to my family.

Now I have a wonderful husband and am about to deliver my firstborn. The purr of joy and contentment in my heart is loud and strong. I feel ready for the future, excited, alert. The way I felt the weeks before I met my future husband.

So I think I’ll spend some of the next 17 1/2 hours treasuring these things and pondering them in my heart. It’s not every day that I get the chance to prepare for seeing a dream come true.

What does one do while waiting for a dream to come true?

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-does-one-do-while-waiting-for.html

Jesus - The Action Figure

So Garrett and I are in the public library, enjoying the quiet as he studies and I do some blogging and reading.

I'm sitting across from him and peek up every now and then to watch him. Right now he's leaning his forehead on his hand and highlighting something Very Important in the book in front of him. He's mouthing the words as he reads (I do the same thing when I'm concentrating), but sometimes he'll pucker his lips.

So cute.


Anyway, a few minutes ago he went on a little walk to take a mental break and brought back this picture for me.

Please allow me to introduce you to Jesus, the Action Figure.

Notice that he is in the "I'm floating up to heaven" pose.

Just to be clear that this is no ordinary action figure, we see the following near the bottom of the package.
Yes, you may pose Jesus any way you want. Rather than floating up to heaven, you may pose him in the "turning water into wine" pose, or the "I heal you" pose, or the "go ahead and give us a hug, little leper" pose. You have complete control.

But isn't that the way we treat Him sometimes? Like His actions are under our control? Like a cosmic Santa Claus, there to give us whatever we want. And if He doesn't come through (in our estimation), watch out! We'll show Him, give Him the silent treatment by not praying for a while. Maybe stop attending church and put our Bible in a drawer. Although we're more than willing to invite Him to our pity party.

Thankfully, He is not under our control. He does not require direction from me. He is God. He knows what He's doing. And this isn't scary to me because He is also kind. His actions are always for my good, and for the good of those around me. So rather than trying to control His pose, I'll choose to place myself in a position of submission to His actions.

Jesus - The Action Figure

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/jesus-action-figure.html

Make a Funny

Tip for making your life easier: Be Funny. It's amazing how well people respond to you when you make them laugh, or even crack a smile. Think of the funniest person you know - do they have lots of friends? Do you want to be around them? Probably yes to both questions. So develop a sense of humor and watch your popularity climb.

But before you engage in the pursuit of The Funny, I think it's important to spell out some possible categories:

• Comical - the most famous Funny. Think of the class clown and you know what I'm talking about. A Comical person is always looking for a way to make you laugh. A lot of body humor involved here.
• Dry - this is on the opposite end of The Funny spectrum from Comical. Still funny, but not necessarily looking for the laugh. Unique in that the funny person usually isn't smiling when they say The Funny.
• Witty - this is when you think of something funny to say really fast in response to something someone else just said or something that just happened. And you have to say it IMMEDIATELY. If you wait, it's not as funny. This one take a lot of smarts and I'm not sure that you can actually learn it.
• Nerdy - not everyone may know about this Funny category. You have to have specialized knowledge about a subject to understand this type of Funny. Here's an example: At a computer seminar, a man proudly presents a prototype for a new voice activated computer system. "It's the only one of its kind! Try it! Say any instruction!" A man from the back yells, "Format c colon enter!" Hah! I laugh every time. That's some good stuff. What, you're not laughing? That's ok because Funnies in this category don't have to be computer-related. There are actually sub-categories - computer, general engineering, chemical engineering, law, medicine...the list is endless. Just make sure that you know your subject well or you'll look more idiotic than funny.
• Generational - this type of Funny is understood only by someone in the general age group of the Funny Maker. Example - there's this cell phone commercial that tries to be funny by using those abbreviations that kids use in text messages, like BFF and such. I say "and such" because I don't know any other abbreviations. I'm one of those old people (thirty-something) that actually pecks out complete sentences in a text message. So that commercial just isn't funny to me. But kids probably think it's hilarious.
• Sarcasm - this is a tricky one. IMHO (whadayouknow, I knew another!), Sarcasm isn't all that funny. It often elicits a quick half-smile that turns into a "should I laugh at that?" look. Try it. You'll see what I mean. Makes you feel kind of yucky, which totally defeats the purpose.
• Humor at Someone Else's Expense - this category of Funny is the armpit of the Funny world. And that's all I have to say about that.

Now that you know some categories of Funny, try to figure out what category you're naturally inclined to. (If it's Sarcasm or Humor at Someone Else's Expense, try to reprogram yourself.) Practice being funny in that way. You might miss the mark sometimes, but keep trying.

Advanced Funny People can combine a couple of the different categories to reach higher levels of funniness. For example, I love the combination of Witty and Comical. I am personally not gifted in this way, but I know those that are (my dear husband for one).

A primo example of an Advanced Funny Person is Jesus Christ Himself. The Sermon on the Mount is just full of humor. You see, I have the feeling that a lot of what Jesus said was in direct response to something or someone in the crowd, making Him Witty. And He liked to throw in a physical aspect, making Him Comical. Like when He said the thing about being all worried about the speck in someone else's eye when you have a plank in your own. I can just see Him picking up a stick to demonstrate. You have to play it out like a movie in your mind to get it, but once you do it's totally worth it. You'll never look at the Bible the same way again. And if you're a Christian, Jesus can be your own personal Funny Mentor - "Jesus, please help me to be a Funny Maker like you!" Awesome.

So pursue The Funny. Make 'em laugh. IT COULD CHANGE THE WORLD! (This is an Exaggeration - another type of Funny I failed to mention, but whatever, you get the point.)

It's been real.

Make a Funny

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/04/make-funny.html

Things I Learned From Pride & Prejudice

My blog friend Tara put up a post about running into the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice on TV. That is hands-down my all-time favorite movie. It was a mini-series, about 5 hours long, but totally worth it in my humble opinion. I’ve made many people sit through the entire 5 hours with me so that they can experience the romance. They’re (usually) glad they did. So I thought I would share with you all some things I learned from this Movie of Movies (with video clips, of course). Beware, THIS MAY CHANGE YOUR LIFE!

• Getting a little help in the dating department isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Anyone that knows the story of how I met my husband understands how much I believe this. Check out Meet the Bennets and watch a mother go into matchmaking mode. The ending of the movie made me think, “Hmmm, could it be that a set-up could really work?” (Also learned from this clip: snorting isn't attractive. whoops.)
• A first impression can be a wrong impression. In Mr. Darcy's First Appearance, Darcy puts his foot in his mouth by insulting Elizabeth. Elizabeth overhears (AWKWARD), which puts him on her List of People I Abhor. So they both have a bad first impression of each other, only to fall completely in love later. This clip also teaches me that whispering in front of people is a Bad Thing. But if you're gonna do it (and you know you will), do indeed WHISPER.
• Going along with the last point, our views of other people may be totally wrapped up in what they think of us. I can think of a time that a woman that I hardly knew told my mother, “We LOVE Leslie.” I was, like, “Really?” I didn’t know why they “loved” me so much, but I have to admit that I appreciated this near-stranger much more after hearing this.
• Walking can be fun! At various points in the movie you see Elizabeth walking. Not just walking from one room to another, but walking through hill and dale and mud and dirt and just walking for eons. She’s even called a “great walker” at some point. Honestly, I always thought of walking as just a way to get from point A to point B. But after seeing this a few times I thought, I want to be a great walker! (But only with comfortable shoes. I wore some cool-looking Skechers on a walk around Lake Austin with my husband a few weeks ago. My feet looked good, but let's just say that my heels didn't appreciate the shoes as much as I did.)
• Continuing with the walking idea, I’ve discovered that praying while walking is totally awesome. It’s a common thing for a lot of people, but I always thought, what's the big deal? But it works! Maybe more blood is rushing to your head, I don't know. It’s like the opposite of laying in bed praying. You know how easy it is to fall asleep while praying? I heard of a guy that prayed standing on the edge of his bath tub so that he wouldn't fall asleep. I tried it once. I'd rather walk. Maybe the reason Elizabeth walks so much is because she’s got a lot of praying to do – “Please send me my man! And make him rich!”
• Not everyone loves a 5 hour movie. Sometimes I’ll ask (beg) people to watch it with me. They always ask, “How long is it?” Clearly wondering how long the torture will last. When I say 5 hours, they usually shudder as if I asked them for a kidney.
• Wigs really can look like real hair. I always loved Elizabeth’s hair in this movie. I thought the curls were just so cute. But then I read somewhere that she wore wigs because her hair is actually blond. I was shocked, I tell you. SHOCKED.
• The British really know how to tell someone off. Check out this clip (Professing Love, aka People Say Stupid Things When Nervous) of when Darcy first proposes to Elizabeth. I just love how she tells him that he couldn't have presented the proposal in any possible way…You go, girl! It just wouldn’t have sounded the same in American English. American translation - “I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth!” Just doesn't have the same punch, does it? Sounds immature. So if I'm going to be told off, I want it done by a Brit.
• Lake water is rather murky. I always suspected as much. This lake scene proves it (Darcy jumps in the lake after being totally rejected by Elizabeth). Can I just say that that's some nasty looking water? Maybe this was a half-hearted suicide attempt??? ("Come and eat me, you dirty little fishies!")
• A man deeply in love will give The Look. Check out my absolutely favorite clip of this movie. Be still, my heart! I want to burst into tears every time I see this. I'm happy to say that my husband looks at me this way. He actually thinks I'm cute. Don't know why. I consider myself to be more of a dork. And history would testify to that (I'm thinking of the time I walked into a glass door and almost knocked myself out - so sad). All I can think is that God had a hand in it - "And God said, He shall see her as cute. And it was done. And it was good."
• It's important to put careful thought into what we say about other people - before we say it. I don’t have a clip for this, but there’s a scene where Elizabeth and her sister have a conversation about if they should tell people of something terrible that the villain in the movie did. That was new to me. You mean you don’t just let it come up in conversation? They decide against it. I was very impressed by this.

Anyway, this may be the longest post ever, but I thoroughly enjoyed talking about my favorite movie. Let me know your thoughts. Have you also been captivated by Elizabeth and Darcy’s love story?

Things I Learned From Pride & Prejudice

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/03/things-i-learned-from-pride-prejudice.html

Forgiveness Is Like a Bikini Wax

Don’t you just love a bikini wax? NOT! I don’t know if I should think of it as a valuable beauty regimen or instrument of torture. I can think of arguments for both:

• The Wax as a Beauty Regimen – will leave you with a sense of cleanliness and ultra-hygienic. Will also allow you to put on a swimsuit. Without shorts. However, since The Trying On of the Swimsuit can also be considered an instrument of torture, we’ll leave that out of it.
• The Wax as an Instrument of Torture – may bring tears to your eyes, whimpering, “For the love of God…” May also cause untold bathroom mishaps if The Wax is self-inflicted (think Mel Gibson in What Women Want), with the possibility of further injury.

With that said, I have to admit that I have been one of those that has entered the torture chamber willingly, then stumbled away after the end of the process with my head held a little higher. Before my first, I did some research on the pain aspect. I was hoping that it wasn’t as bad as I’d been led to believe, so I interviewed past victims and spent some time with
Google.

I learned a few things.

1. As one friend put it, “I’m not gonna lie to you – it hurts.”

2. You can alleviate some of the pain by taking an over-the-counter pain reliever 30-45 minutes before the dreaded appointment. I’m not sure how much it actually helps, but I hang onto that thought as if it were the last under-eye concealer on earth.

3. The more you do it, the less painful it will become. (Why? Does the trauma finally just kill your nerve endings?)

Now here’s where the forgiveness aspect comes in. You see, my mind has a way of connecting random thoughts. It’s a stream-of-consciousness thing (the only thing I ever learned about Faulkner, by the way) – one thought will lead to another, then another, then another, and before you know it the first thought is so far removed from the last thought that they seem totally unrelated. And this can happen within the space of three seconds. I’m sure some of you relate. (Word of warning: don’t do this out loud or you’ll get the “Is she insane?” look from those around you. Believe me, I know.)

In one of my random thought trails, I began thinking that forgiveness is like a bikini wax. Sometimes the pain or hurt inflicted by others is so great that it feels like a physical effort to go through the process of forgiveness. But, if you keep at it, eventually it will become just a bit easier, which will then make it easier to forgive the next person that gives you the opportunity.

But then you get a Brazilian.

One of my sisters shared with me her experience in getting a little more waxed off than normal. She was laying on the table for the usual routine, in pain but still able to carry on a conversation with her attendant. Then the attendant asked her if she would like a little more taken off. My sister thought, sure, why not. I am woman, hear me roar.

She continued conversing until the ripping of the cloth strip from her poor defenseless body. So much pain shot through her that she sat straight up as a stream of profanity spewed from her mouth, sure that blood had been drawn.

No blood.

But only halfway done.

So she reluctantly laid back down, this time gripping the sides of the table like a seasoned veteran in the Beauty Wars as she assumed the position. She gave the now frightened attendant the go ahead to continue.

There wasn’t much conversation at this point.

But the degradation wasn’t over yet. After leaving the torture chamber, she had to endure the laughter of those sitting outside. She paid (heaping salt on the wound, so to speak), apologized for her Tourettes moment, and fled. Only to come across a couple more witnesses taking a smoke outside. More laughter. And a final escape to her car and complete retreat from the premises.

So I began to think, wow, forgiveness really is like a bikini wax. You think you have the forgiveness thing figured out, but then an “opportunity” for forgiveness that is so unexpected and painful comes flying at you, and you respond like you’d never learned the lesson to begin with. The offender rips the cloth of hurt, drawing things out of you that you didn’t even know were there. Which puts you in the position of both forgiver and the one asking for forgiveness for your un-Christlike response.

Because, after all, there is One that endured true torture to provide us with forgiveness. And He did it willingly. Without any sort of pain reliever. So if you’ve accepted the divine forgiveness provided by Jesus on the cross, you can be a forgiver, as well. It doesn’t require a lot of conversation. Just a willingness to lay down that pesky pride and assume the position of humble servant. And you don’t even have to pay – Jesus already paid the price. Then what seemed like the torture of forgiving becomes a way to have a clean heart. That’s a beauty regimen that I can go for.

Forgiveness Is Like a Bikini Wax

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/03/forgiveness-is-like-bikini-wax.html

Top Ten Reasons I Know I’m All Grown Up

10. Growing up my conversation was filled with school gossip. Now I spend hours discussing various physical ailments with whatever poor soul is within earshot.
9. Growing up I stayed up until midnight playing computer games. Now I stay up until midnight doing laundry.
8. Growing up I loved underoos. Now I love a good supportive bra.
7. Growing up I got excited about buying a new toy or game. Now I get excited about buying a new vacuum cleaner with a Hepa filter.
6. Growing up I would sneak candy out of the Halloween stash. Now just a couple of pieces of chocolate make me sick to my stomach.
5. Growing up I did everything possible to avoid naptime. Now I daydream about having a couch at work to snooze on.
4. Growing up I moaned and groaned about any chore having to do with cleaning gloves. Now I spend twenty minutes in the cleaning aisle reading the label on every toilet cleanser available.
3. Growing up I didn’t know what a calorie was. Now I calculate Weight Watchers points.
2. Growing up I was proud of every year added to my age. Now I follow a strict, “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.

And the number one reason that I know that I’m all grown up…

1. Growing up I used to daydream about my future husband. Now I wash his underwear. (Gladly!)

Top Ten Reasons I Know I’m All Grown Up

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/02/top-ten-reasons-i-know-im-all-grown-up.html

Productivity

Treadmills are not my friends. I have utter disdain for running (or, in my case, walking) on those awful contraptions. Yes, I do have one. I found the perfect spot for it – a storage facility. Why pretend that I’m actually going to use it?

So you’ll understand my frustration when I say that I often feel like my life is on a treadmill. Just walking along, looking nowhere in particular, and getting absolutely nowhere, be it fast or slow. I tend to feel this way when it seems like I’m just not being productive. This feeling of lack of productivity has been growing steadily over the last couple of years, both at home and at work. Mind you, I did manage to plan a wedding and move (twice!) this past year, both major accomplishments. But when I’m settled into regular everyday life, it seems like no matter how hard or how much I work, I don’t have much to show for it. I work on the same projects for months or even years, but they just refuse to go away, lingering like bad breath. Somebody get me a Tic-Tac!

I didn’t realize how much this was bothering me until this past Tuesday night at Beth Moore’s Bible study. She went over Judges 6 where we learn of a time (like many) in Israel’s history when their enemies are so oppressive that anything they produce is ruined. They worked hard but remained in abject poverty.

Those verses mirrored what was happening inside me whenever I tried to work at something. It just seemed like I couldn’t finish anything, so there have been many times when I’ve thought, “Why bother?” At work I know that there will always be difficult people to impede my progress, no matter how charming I am…email traffic will never end…just when I finish one weekly status report I have to write another. Then I go home and consider that there will always be another dirty dish…the toilet will never truly be clean…I can always go buy new clean underwear. And, in the great scheme of things, will anything I do really matter?

But I was greatly encouraged by John 15:8 – “This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.” This verse and the accompanying passage proved to me that, as a disciple of Christ, I was created and saved with the intention of being productive. Colossians 1:10 speaks more on this subject – “That you may walk (live and conduct yourselves) in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him and desiring to please Him in all things, bearing fruit in every good work…” (Amplified Bible). As I work, I’m to seek God’s approval, not approval from others. The end result is a productive life.

Now that I have it settled in my mind that God meant for me to be productive, I’m wondering what I will produce. Lots of new software? Something interesting to read? And I hope a clean house is in there somewhere. As for the treadmill, looks like I’ll need to sell it because I’ve given it up for jazzercise. At least for now.

Productivity

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/01/productivity.html

Relax and Rest

The honeymoon is over. Gifts are unwrapped and thank you notes written. Garrett and I have transitioned from daydreaming about our future life together into a period of getting to know each other’s daily habits…and learning to live with those that we could do without. I have redirected my mental focus from wedding plans to homekeeping. Bride magazine has been replaced with Good Housekeeping and Real Simple. And, knowing me, you’ve probably guessed that I’ve bought numerous books about various aspects of marriage – The Excellent Wife, The First 90 Days of Marriage, and even The Act of Marriage. No area is safe from my research instinct.

You’d think with all of this going on (not to mention a full-time job), my mind would be too full to hold anything unworthy. But the devil never rests. While God has plans for my good, the enemy has plans for my unhappiness. In this case, he’s been placing unworthy thoughts in my head that lead to fear. Fear of losing Garrett to an accident or illness, or of causing him grief through my own accident or illness. Fear of lack of financial security. Fear that we will never have children. There have been times that I have truly felt a prisoner of fear.

It shouldn’t be this way! I’m still a newlywed and should be enjoying my husband, not imagining terrible things that may never happen. I prayed for rest from my anxiety and worry, and God came through. One day during Bible study I came across the following verse – “May the LORD grant that each of you will find rest in the home of another husband.” (Ruth 1:9) The context of this verse is that Naomi and her daughters-in-law all lost their husbands. Naomi speaks this blessing over them during their period of despair. What struck me about this was that it mirrored my desire to have rest in the newness of my marriage and proved to me that God desires this for me, as well. I looked for other verses that spoke about rest and came across Psalm 116:7 – “Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you.” I also like the translation of this verse in The Message Bible – “I said to myself, "Relax and rest. GOD has showered you with blessings”.

So, basically, God told me to just relax and chill out. Stop taking things so seriously. And I did! My soul moved from a state of tense awareness to a more mellow mode. I still have periods of worry and anxiety, but I’m now equipped with God’s word on the matter. I can now whisper to myself, “Relax and enjoy your blessings,” knowing that it is God’s will.

Last night at Bible study I was reminded that total freedom from worry and anxiety is possible. So I’m believing for God to set me free in this area. In the meantime, I am focusing on resting in the home of my dear, sweet, and cute-as-can-be husband.


House that Garrett and I are trying to buy.

Relax and Rest

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/01/relax-and-rest.html

The Veil

I lost my veil. Sometime during preparations to combine households, packing boxes, temporarily moving in with a friend, it just disappeared. The dress, slip, jewelry were all accounted for…but my veil managed to find a very good hiding place. I wasn't as calm as I sound. How could it be that I lost what is to me the most important piece of a bride’s trousseau? For days it hurt just to think about it. I prayed for its reappearance with the fervor of an overwhelmed bride.

Even more than the dress, the veil to me is what makes one a bride. After all, how often does a woman have the opportunity to wear a veil? Numerous opportunities may arise for wearing a white dress, but the opportunity to wear a veil and not be in costume is pretty much once in a lifetime. I had a conversation with my sister-in-law about veils and we agreed that brides that choose a short veil are simply cheating themselves. This unique opportunity calls for as much drama as a veil allows!

Part of the reason that the veil is so special to me is that it is a physical reminder of a spiritual truth. You see, on this side of heaven, I will not truly see Jesus in all His glory. Just as I saw my groom through the film of my veil as I walked down the aisle, the veil of humanity limits my understanding of my heavenly Bridegroom even as I draw closer to Him. I can enjoy Jesus’ Presence in my life now, just as I enjoy the company of my groom. But there came the time that my father lifted my veil to present me to my future husband. As the veil rose and I clearly saw Garrett's handsome face, I looked forward to the day that my heavenly Father will lift the veil of humanity and bring me into a more intimate relationship with my heavenly Groom.

By the way, it all worked out. I was able to get a new veil and, wouldn’t you know it, a few weeks later the original veil reappeared. As the veil was placed on my head I was prepared for drama - I truly felt like a bride!

“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”1 Corinthians 13:12

The Veil

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2007/12/veil.html