An apple a day...

My Granny was a hypochondriac. We used to joke that she’d had every affliction except prostate cancer, and for that, it was only a matter of time. Granny did have many genuine health problems, though, and she took so many pills she needed one of those pill boxes to separate them for each day.

I’ve worked for two health charities, hearing the stories of previously healthy people who suffered vicious attacks on their bodies by the diseases I worked to eradicate.

One of my closest friends from college was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last year, a diagnosis made even scarier by the fact that she’s watched her dad and aunt struggle with the same disease for years.

A dear friend from high school died of colon cancer a few years ago. I had lost touch with him, but reportedly, he was diagnosed in the late spring and was gone before fall. Just that quickly.

And of course, last year, I became seriously ill as I entered my third trimester of pregnancy, spending eight days in the hospital and delivering my daughter seven weeks early.

For all these reasons and the dozens of stories I won’t tell here, I’m truly thankful for my health. I may be overweight, asthmatic and allergic to everything that grows. I may have a shoulder that throbs when under any stress and a leg that aches when the weather changes. But really, compared to the struggles that so many people face each day, these things are like a paper cut. Irritating and slightly painful, but nothing to lose sleep over.

I’m amazed at the strength and courage I’ve seen in people who face chronic or deadly illness. The most striking thing from my time with ALS patients was the unstoppable joy so many of them had. But I’ve also been reminded – each time I see someone facing pain or illness, each time I hear another story of cancer or disease – that I’m so very blessed to be healthy. I’m thankful for my health.

Today wraps up my month of thanksgiving. I could name so many other things, people, places and experiences that I’ve been blessed with, that I’m thankful for. What about you? What are you thankful for?

The List.

I have a list. (Surprising, no?) A list of questions that I plan to ask God as soon as I get to heaven. It’s not a real long list, but it has some of the most important questions in my heart:

Why did my friend Carrie have to die in that car accident?
Why did Mark’s mom have to die before she was even 50?
Why did God send me to grad school? (Why didn’t I love grad school?)
Why didn’t the church plant work?
Why did I lose my job while I was pregnant?
Why are Photobaby and I okay and healthy?

These are the hard questions of life. Don’t ask me to ponder why the sky is blue or why birds sing or if zebras are white with black stripes or black with white stripes. We can figure out those things (some of us can recall our biology classes, the rest of us can look it up on Google), and they don’t impact my heart anyway. But these things that don’t make sense, that don’t fit into a box, that don’t stay resolved – these are the things I long to ask God.

Until then, though, I’m thankful that God has the answers. Even if I don’t. No, especially if I don’t. Because when it comes down to it, I don’t have to understand or even like the way things are. But I believe that God has a reason, an answer. And part of me is glad that my God is so big that no one can know His thoughts but Him.

I’m thankful to love and serve and know a God big enough for my questions…and His answers.

What are the questions in your heart?

You're my person.

When I was in seventh grade, Smitty and I did a report in science class about lightning. In eighth grade, we went on a school trip to Washington, D.C., and took our first hold-the-camera-ourselves photo. In ninth grade, I rode home with her after school and celebrated our grades and class ranks with her mom. In tenth grade, Smitty gave Mark her stamp of approval when he asked me to the Homecoming dance, reminding me that he used to live down the road from her house. In eleventh grade, we starred in our school’s production of “Arsenic and Old Lace.” (Well, Smitty starred. I was just in it.) During our senior year, we traveled to Kirksville with our parents for a campus tour, both of us leaving with revelations: her, that she did not want to go to Truman; me, that I did. We held a joint graduation party, then went our separate ways. So as freshmen, we figured out how to stay close while living three hours apart, sharing details about boyfriends and classes and piercings and changed majors over the phone and this new technology called e-mail.

I could go on, but I’m sure you get the point. Smitty and I have been friends for a long time. What’s funny (to us) is that I recently found a picture of my 6th birthday party, and she was there. We didn’t even remember it!

Smitty is absolutely my best friend, my person. And I’m so thankful for her! But she’s not my only true friend.

In college, I met T-Rex, Triple and Chelley (as well as my Family Group at the BSU and my dorm friends who became life friends), the Iowa-loving, truth-telling friends I will have for life. In grad school (short-lived though it was), I met Amber, the person I may have more in common with than any other. At my first job, I met Colleen, Heidi, Jenn and Jill, the girls who walked with me through rough times with my marriage, as well as amazing successes and devastating failures at work, all while laughing at my ability to become “drunk” over Diet Cherry Cokes. You know about Kevin from my first agency job, but it’s also there that I met Daphne, my copywriter friend who loves country music and small towns and animals and family more than anyone I know. And I can’t forget my church friends – Mandy, Amy, Katie, Jacqueline, Elizabeth – who became so much more than “church friends.” So much more.

These women – along with childhood friends and my new bloggy friends – have listened to me, prayed for me, encouraged me and loved me. And they have made me who I am today. I love my friends, and I am so thankful for them.

What friends are you thankful for today?

It's not a holiday until someone cries.

My family has issues. I mean, we are full of the crazy. But gosh darn it, I love these people. Even if it's true that in our family, it's not a holiday until someone cries.

We love board games, especially Yahtzee. We love stupid movies, especially ones starring Chevy Chase. We love the Lord, even if our journeys are unique and ever-changing. We love to eat, and feel the consequences as a result. We love Don Chilitos, a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant in Mission, Kansas. We try to make burritos like they do, but it's not quite the same. Just like the restaurant has never been the same since they took down the fish tank. We love to travel. We love home decorating shows and musicals and the History Channel. Well, Dad doesn't love musicals, and I don't love the History Channel. But we all endure these things for the others.

We are family. And I love them. And I'm so very thankful for them.

Happy Thanksgiving, from my family to yours!

Roll On, Eighteen Wheeler, Roll On!

As I may have mentioned a time or twelve, I have much angst about my career path. I’ve had several jobs since graduating from college, all of which started as my dream job and ended as…well, something else entirely. I’ve also talked about money and how we just never have enough of it.

But what I haven’t shared with you is how my husband is an incredibly hard worker, and how he’s been blessed with a great job.

The story is a long, winding one, but the short version is this: I pushed Mark about finishing college for several years, afraid that he would waste his potential and end up as a truck driver, like his dad. And then Mark realized that he enjoys driving and wanted to be a truck driver.

Of all things!

So, a few years ago, he embarked on a determined journey to become a truck driver. He worked long, hard hours at FedEx Ground, driving and delivering in snow, sleet and ice, working through injury and illness – all for not much pay. He then jumped through a lot of hoops to move from that job to a job at FedEx Freight (yes, it’s a separate company), spending time, money and hope on his belief that working there would be good for him and good for our family. Finally, three years after first applying to work there and just a few months before I got pregnant, he was hired part-time. The bad news was that he was working two jobs for most of my pregnancy. The good news is that he eventually moved to working full-time at Freight, earning shorter hours, a better salary and better benefits.

And even though he doesn’t get to drive as much as wants yet, and sometimes he gets an old forklift to use on the dock, and his hours keep him away from his loving wife – Mark loves his job. He’s doing what he wants to do and being rewarded for it.

I love – and am so thankful – that one of us has an angst-free career. And more importantly, I’m so very thankful that Mark is a hard worker who provides for his family.

This hasn’t changed how I feel about driving a truck and unused potential. I won’t be surprised at all if God has something else for Mark later down the road. (Ha! “Road” – no pun intended, but ha!) And I still cry buckets when I hear Alabama sing, “Roll On,” the song about a truck driver who gets stranded in a snow storm. But for now, I am thankful that God has provided this job for Mark. And I’m thankful that Mark does it.

If you weren’t doing the job you currently have, what kind of job would you like to have?

Kansas City Lights, Shine for Me Tonight

David Cook, the American Idol from Kansas City, is flipping the switch at Thursday's Plaza lighting ceremony. But he's not performing. Isn't that weird?

(By the way, for those of you not living in the great city of KC, you may not know the song from my title. So, here you go.)

Sleep in heavenly peace.

For 9 1/2 years, Mark and I had a bedroom full of hand-me-down furniture, including the full-size mattress we slept on. It was crowded. And not at all resembling the Pottery Barn catalog. But it was functional and free.

Then a couple months ago, I was running late for church, so I drove separately while Mark went ahead with Photobaby. On my way there, I heard a commercial on the radio for a furniture store that was closing and holding a big sale. Well, actually, a HUGE sale! (Imagine that being shouted in radio announcer voice.)

So on a whim, we drove across town to the closing store and checked out the their furniture with slashed prices. About an hour later, we were the proud owners of a new bed frame, mattress (queen size!), dresser, chest of drawers and side table. Just like that!

Well, there was a bit more to the story, including negotiation and calculation and consideration and...well, figuring out if we could really afford it.

But the end result is that I now get to sleep on a big, comfy bed. And I'd gotten so accustomed to our old, small, not comfy bed that my new bed feels like a fancy hotel bed (like the one Photobaby is rolling around on in the picture). So, now, every time I get into bed, I can't stop myself from saying, "Ahhhhh...."

Hope that's not too much information for you. But I just can't help it - I'm thankful for my new bed!

What's your favorite piece of furniture? Are you pro-Pottery Barn look, or anti-Pottery Barn look?

Movie Review: What Happens in Vegas

I have to come clean. I've let my friend, Smitty, down. In a moment of weakness, of desperation, of boredom, I rented "What Happens in Vegas." I know, I know. It looked wretched. And it starred Cameron Diaz.

But there wasn't anything else to rent. Well, I wanted to watch Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, but Mark got to vote, too.

So back to the movie. Was it predictable? Sure. Was it a typical chick flick? Yes. Did it star Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher? Yup.

But here it is: I liked it. It was funny. And I like predictable chick flicks, okay? And...I hate to say it, but I have to say it...I think Ashton Kutcher might be a little funny.

What about you? Seen any shockingly not bad movies lately?

The quietest and most constant of friends

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends;
they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors,
and the most patient of teachers.
~ Charles W. Eliot

Have I mentioned that I love reading? Oh, just a few times? Well, then, you won't be surprised to know that I'm thankful for books. After all, if it weren't for books, I never would have learned that...

• Magic exists, and good trumps evil. (Chronicles of Narnia)
• When standing or eating in a field, cows all face the same direction. (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)
• Fried worms are chock-full of vitamins. (How to Eat Fried Worms)
• Old desks and closets always have secret compartments. (Nancy Drew)
• Murder may always be wrong, but sometimes it's understandable. (A Time to Kill)
• Pigs can't look up. (Encyclopedia Brown)

Books have played such an important part in my life, from walking uptown to the tiny town library in the summer to check out the next Trixie Belden book to avoiding chores and hearing my mom shout, "Get your nose out of that book!" to earning pizza with the Book-It program to my first job shelving books at the next town's library. And hopefully, someday soon, they'll play a big part in my career!

I'm thankful for books.

Do you prefer to check books out of the library or buy them? Do you love the smell of old books, or think that musty paper is gross? (I'm sure you could guess, but I'm a fan of musty paper.)

Yes, I'm one of those people. I'm a scrapbooker.

Seven years ago, my cousin invited me to a Creative Memories party. She sold the scrapbooking products, and even though I was broke and had no business buying paper and stickers, I went to spend time with her. While I was there, two things happened.

I realized my cousin is a good salesperson. And I began scrapbooking.

I’ve always loved taking and collecting photos, and I had journals, albums and even a few scrapbooks from years before. But this type of scrapbooking was purposeful, creative and addictive. And I haven’t stopped doing it since.

I’m happy to say that my scrapbooking style has changed since that day I glued a few graduation pictures and a purple border on a page. Since working at Archiver’s part-time, I’ve even started getting fancy and using ribbon and (I can’t believe I’m saying this) stamps and ink on my pages. I have more paper than I could ever use, more projects than I could ever finish, and more stacks of photos than I can get organized.

But I love it. I’ve even tried to make a business out of it. (You can see a few books I made – and hoped to sell – below.) I’m glad that didn’t take off, though, because this way, scrapping is still a hobby. Still something FUN. I’m thankful for scrapbooking. It’s a way to preserve and honor memories, but also a way to connect with other women and spend time with friends.

Do any of you scrapbook?

Thankful for choir, I am.

Last Sunday, our choir sang, “The King of Love My Shepherd Is.” It’s a beautiful song, and this was the second time we sang it. When we did it two years ago, I didn’t like the song much. It was slow and difficult. And I got out of breath every time we did it. But this time, the notes and breathing patterns came a little easier, and I was able to appreciate the simple, yet stunning, beauty of the words and harmonies.

[In case you’re wondering, our choir called this song, “The Yoda Song.” You know, because silly title, it has.]

I’ve been in several church and school choirs, including Swing Choir in high school. I confess, I got out of most the dance routines by serving as the accompanist. But play a little Beach Boys tune, and I just might find myself walking in a square and whipping out jazz hands.

But I digress. My point today is that the church choir I sing with now is my favorite one of all. It’s full of talented people, and it’s led by a gifted and God-focused director. I’m thankful for “the best 90 minutes of my week,” as Brett (our director) calls it. I’m thankful for choir.

Here’s a sample of the song we sang last weekend. Imagine it with less (lots less) flute and less Mormon Tabernacle-ness.

Are you involved in any church ministries? Have you ever sung in a choir? Am I the only person who really dislikes the flute?

"Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance."

Title quote by Will Durant.

I was brought up to value education, and I'm so thankful. My mom is a teacher, but even before she went back to school to get her degree, she was constantly teaching us at home. One of the things I remember her saying so often was, "Look it up." And off I'd go to the World Book encyclopedias. (These days, I'm constantly going to Google to look something up, so clearly this lesson is one that has stayed with me!)

I was able to attend decent schools at little cost to myself. I was challenged and encouraged and taught. I could name many things I regret or resent about my education or lack thereof, but when I think of the opportunities I had compared to those so many others do not, all I can say it that I'm thankful for my education.

"An education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you know and what you don't." ~ Anatole France

"I cannot teach anybody anything, I can only make them think." ~ Socrates

The Best Show Your Grandma is Watching

During my senior year of college, I started watching reruns on JAG in the afternoons. As I tend to do, I got hooked and quickly started watching new episodes every week. So when the network decided to make a spinoff of my favorite show, you’d think I would have jumped on board.

Well, no. First of all, that spinoff – originally known as Navy NCIS – did not star David James Elliott. Second of all, I knew that a spinoff meant the end of JAG was near. So I boycotted. CBS was sad, but what could they do? I drew the line, and I would not cross it.

Until a couple summers ago, when there was just nothing else on. My fierce devotion to all things JAG had dimmed a bit, as it had left the air a couple seasons before and new shows had replaced its #1 spot in my heart. Somehow watching NCIS (apparently someone realized the original title’s redundancy) didn’t seem so bad anymore.

I mentioned to Smitty that I had started watching the show, and she said, “Oh yeah, my mom loves it.” Then I noticed that, possibly due to Mark Harmon’s starring role, this was a show thought to be watched primarily by older women. Seriously – Google it. You search “NCIS + grandma,” and you’ll see I’m not even kidding.

Despite that reputation – and TV Guide’s refusal to have a blog for the show – I added NCIS to my weekly rotation. And now, all of a sudden, this little show loved by grandmas and me (and okay, maybe a few others) is getting a lot of attention.

This week, media outlets from Slate and MSN to the New York Times and the LA Times have been forced to recognize. Apparently, NCIS had 18.8 million viewers last week – more than any other show on television!

How did this happen, you ask? Well, nobody seems to know for sure, although lots of theories are been tossed around. One site, TV Squad, listed the top 5 reasons it’s cool to like NCIS:

1. It’s not really a procedural.
2. It’s not really a military show.
3. It’s pop topical. (This is true – I had to laugh and wish Mark was watching with me this week when Tony smoothly segued from references to Convoy to Smokey and the Bandit.)
4. It’s all about the team.
5. It’s filled with funny bits.

It is a funny show. And for the chick-flick-loving ladies like me, there’s a little bit of romantic tension, too. Of course, the mysteries and political intrigue are good, too. But perhaps the biggest mystery is just how, according to the New York Times, “While no one was looking, a six-year-old television series that lands on few magazine covers, enjoys almost no love from critics and never gets a sniff of a nomination for prestigious awards is suddenly the hottest show on the air.”

We’ve talked about favorite TV shows a few times around here, but do you watch any unpopular shows? (Amy, you mentioned The Unit. Maybe it will be the next military show to gain popularity?!)

I'm thankful for Camp Fire.

I was a Camp Fire girl. Girl Scouts weren't really big in my town, plus my mom had been in Camp Fire and so had my cousins. So of course that's what I did. We met in our church basement and learned about Veteran's Day (sending Valentines to Vets every year), science (getting beads and patches for experiments such as squirting iodine on vegetables to see which ones were starchy), sewing (my mom made me put my beads and patches on my vest myself), and fashion.

Just kidding. There was nothing fashionable about those bright blue pants.

We also had campouts and sang songs and made foil dinners. I learned how to properly fold up a sleeping bag and that 90 percent of your body heat is lost through your head*.

I learned a lot and had a lot of fun in Camp Fire, and I'm so thankful it was a part of my life.

What about you? Were you a Camp Fire girl or a Boy Scout or anything like that?

* I realize this is possibly untrue. I don't claim to be a scientist or meteorologist or anything of the sort. I'm just reporting the facts as they were taught to me.

Update and Thanks

Thanks so much to everyone who prayed for my friend, Kevin. He actually got to go home from the hospital today (earlier than expected), and Photobaby and I are going to visit him on Friday afternoon. I just talked to him; I'm relieved to hear for myself that he's okay! So, thanks to all of you who prayed for his surgery and recovery. I think he's probably got a long road ahead - did you realize they have to break your sternum to operate on your heart? - but sounds like he's on his way.

Thank you, friends.

Gone, but not forgotten

Today’s title refers to both Veterans Day and my grandfather, a veteran. I intended to write about Veterans Day on the actual day it occurred, but I forgot. Not for long, though, so here are my thoughts.

My mom’s father was an Army man. He served in the Korean War and WWII and worked for the government even after retiring as a Lieutenant Colonel. He would have made it to the Colonel rank, but he didn’t have a college degree. He actually didn’t even graduate high school and instead earned his GED.

His name was Mervin, but I called him “Dakie.” (That’s with a short “a,” rhymes with “khaki,” for those of you who didn’t have a Dakie of your own.) Reportedly the name was created when I tried to imitate my mom, who called him “Daddy.” (She’s Southern. They do that.)

My Dakie was from Georgia, and he could wiggle his ears. He loved spending hours working in the yard, and sometimes when we went to visit him, he’d say to my dad, “Tom, I’ve got a little chore I need some help with.” That usually meant he needed help with an outdoor and/or handyman project, although rumor has it that it once involved nose hair.

My mom tells me that Dakie was just as accident-prone as Mark; unfortunately, they never met. Dakie made a funny little noise to tease our cats every time he came to our house, and he fed dinner scraps to the birds every night. And one time when I was at his house – just me, no parents, no cousins – he told me that I’m his favorite. He also thought I looked like Brooke Shields, so I say he had good taste.

Dakie, holding me as a toddler. I'm not sure, but I think he has part of an Easter egg on his head!

Together with Granny, Dakie traveled in his motor home to Good Sam Clubs, taking us grandkids to Lake Paradise for cookouts, paddle boating and swimming. When I was a real little girl, I would spend Fridays with Granny and Dakie. We would drop Granny off at the beauty parlor, then afterward we’d all go to Hardee’s and eat hamburgers with ketchup and mayonnaise. For dinner, Granny would cook him big meals with mysterious foods like collard greens.

Dakie was a fast driver and a terrible driver (a trait my brother has definitely inherited), and I remember one time he got a ticket on the way back to our house – with my brother and me in the car. And Dakie read his Bible every morning and went to church every Sunday and loved the Lord.

As a matter of fact, I remember one of our last conversations being about the trip he’d just taken with his church, to the Presbyterian Church’s general assembly. Well, that, and the dog race track they were building near his house.

But more than any of these things, the thing I remember most from my Dakie is the importance of patriotism. He had fought for our country; he even came back with some shrapnel in his shoulder. He taught me to stand at attention during the national anthem, and he taught me to respect the American flag (including how to fold one and when it should and should not be flown). And when I stood at Fort Leavenworth during his funeral in the summer of 1991, I learned how brutal the lonesome notes of “Taps” are and how jarring the sound of a 21-gun salute can be to your heart. Like so many of our country’s heroes, my Dakie may be gone, but he will never be forgotten.

I’m thankful for my dear granddad, and for all the men and women who serve and have served in our Armed Forces.

Have you or any of your family members or friends served in the military?

Today begins the countdown.

(Cue ominous music now.)

Today, we are 30 days out from my 30th birthday.

As long as I can remember, I have wanted to be older. I grew up as the oldest child who, due to my parents' extra jobs and college classes at night, took care of her younger siblings. I also grew up close to my cousins, who are five, six and eight years older than me. Reportedly, they saw me as a toy to play with when I was young, but as we grew up, I’m quite sure they saw me as an equal. Surely they didn’t see me as a kid trying desperately to be like her older cousins…right…?

Ahem.

Anyway, for many years, I’ve wanted to be seen as mature, responsible, capable – all qualities typically associated more often with those older than myself. The thought of getting older never struck me as a bad thing; rather, it was a promise that someday, I’d get the respect I deserve.

(I acknowledge freely that this is all ridiculous, including the presumption that I deserve respect. Because believe me, I didn’t have in mind the normal respect we each deserve as humans, as children of God. Nope, I craved the kind of respect typically reserved for superstars or prodigies. That’s the kind of respect I wanted – and was sure I would get when I was older.)

Enter reality. Enter the passage of time. Enter life.

So, here I am today, older and maybe a tad bit wiser. I have a few wrinkles under my eyes, and last year, I found a gray hair. I find myself talking about “kids” – you know, adults in their 20s who do crazy things like text and Twitter and have toys like iPods and Wiis. And I find myself comparing my current life, my real life, to the one I envisioned when I was younger.

• Am I wildly successful, taking over the world one board room or published article at a time?
• Do I have a house full of kids who adore me, their cookie-baking, game-playing, craft-creating mother?
• Have I saved and invested wisely, ensuring a comfortable retirement, while still tithing and donating a significant percentage of my income?
• Have I traveled the world, started a business, become a size 10, run a marathon, learned to cook gourmet meals?

Ummm…no, no, no, and nooooo.

It’s questions like these, comparisons like that, that have dogged me the past year. I should have seen it coming when my husband turned 30. After all, that meant my doomsday was only two years away. But it didn’t sink in until I got the invitation to my 10-year class reunion. That’s when the real insecurities came. And they didn’t creep up, friends. No, they ambushed!

And I’ve battled those feelings for over a year now. But today, as my 30th birthday looms nearer, I’ve decided to truly fight back. Let’s try some different questions.

• Do I have family and friends I love dearly and who love me?
• Has God blessed me beyond comprehension, despite my mistakes, my stubbornness, my me-ness?
• Have I learned more about myself, about God, about the world, about life than I ever realized I didn’t know?
• Am I stronger, more confident, more compassionate, more educated, more humble, more me than I was 5, 10, 15 years ago?

Yes, yes, yes, and yesssss!

And here’s one more – am I looking forward to the next 30 years, and the next after that, because I know that God has an amazing plan for me, a journey and adventure that only He could create?

Yes!

So, as I look back over my life so far and look forward (kind of) to this momentous day coming up, I'm thankful for my life experiences and so many blessings I won't be able to name them all this month!

Which birthday has been your favorite so far? Or, if you're so inclined, which has been the worst?

That's HOW many points?

I just got back from my Weight Watchers meeting. Today's timely lesson was about Thanksgiving and involved the time-honored tradition of writing down everything you think you'll eat on a paper plate. And then counting up the points. And then sharing with the whole group.

I didn't share with the group. But I'll share with you.

If I'm honest about what I would normally eat at a Thanksgiving dinner, it would add up to about 50 points for the meal.

We go to three Thanksgiving meals in a two-day span.

Just to put this in perspective, because I'm a chubby girl, I get 28 points each day and 35 flex points (per week) to use however I want on top of that. (For those of you who also do WW, please don't calculate just how much that makes me weigh. Please?) So, there's really no possible way to stay within my points allowance eating like I normally eat.

Then again, I've been paying for WW for 3 or 4 months now and have lost 5 lbs. So clearly, I'm still eating like I normally eat. Hmph.

Well, this is a bonus gratitude post. Like it or not, I need Weight Watchers. And I'm thankful for Weight Watchers. I just wish they'd magically lower the number of points in a big ol' serving of cheesy potatoes!

What's your favorite holiday dish?

Never thought I'd say this...

Some girls are good at sports. And, feminist that I am, I’m all for girls and women getting equal opportunities in the athletic arena. I believe team sports teach young people life lessons that just can’t be found anywhere else. Even, much as it pains me to admit it, in band. I believe athletics in general encourage healthy lifestyles and dedication and ambition. And I believe that showing support for “your” team is one way that schools and communities bond, and that’s a good thing.

In sum, I think sports are great.

But while some girls are good at sports, I am not one of them. Smitty was. She was a good basketball player. Not me, though. It didn’t matter how bad I wanted it or how many hours I stood in my driveway practicing free throws, I am not an athlete. I may be competitive. I may have rhythm. But I am not an athlete.

Nevertheless, I am thankful for the time I have spent in sports. From gymnastics to t-ball to dance lessons to volleyball to basketball to aerobics, I have made friends and learned lessons and received many a health benefit from athletic activities.

I also collapsed, wheezing, on the floor after doing a few too many separators. And tripped over my own two feet running down the court and stood up, mortified, only to hear my own coach holler a joke at my expense. But that’s been so many years ago. I’ve forgiven that wretched coach and focus on the good things I learned from sports. Mostly.

That's me in the back, smack dab in the middle. My dad was the coach of our t-ball team that year, so we're standing in my back yard. That's my friend, Elise, standing next to me. We met playing t-ball. Neither one of us was an athlete.

Did you play sports? Do you now? What have you learned from sports?

Our house is a very, very, very fine house.

With two cats in the yard. Life used to be so hard.*

Well, we do have two cats. But I'm telling you, they had better not be in the yard. I tell them when they try to escape, "You live inside, not outside."

And life has been hard before. Probably will be again. But not so hard that I didn't have a house to call home. I'm thankful for a home.

Some people don't have a home. Some people have many homes. I'm thankful that for as long as I've been around (which is getting longer every day), I've had one home. Sometimes it's been a small home or a borrowed home or a broken-down, needs a handyman, why'd we buy it in the first place home. But I've always had shelter. I've always had a home. Here are a few:

This is the first house I remember. The old photo doesn't do it justice. Of course, I mainly remember the inside and happy toddler things. My parents built our house (below) when I was 4 years old, so my brother and I could attend better schools.

The house I grew up in. It's a green house. And a fairly small one. But it was often a fun house and always a loving house, on a quiet street in a small town.

The first house Mark and I bought. The one we now can't sell. The first house Photobaby ever lived in.

What's your favorite home? Have you had many over the years?

* From "Our House" by Crosby Stills Nash & Young, in case you don't know this one.

Proof.

Today, I’m thankful for cameras and pictures. As you might have guessed by my blog name, I love photos. I love taking them and having them and framing them on my wall and putting them into scrapbooks. I don’t necessarily love being in them, but for today’s post, I’m going to put up with it. Because today, thanks to the wonder of photography, I have proof of a few things I’ve told you about. Here goes:

Remember when I said my parents let their cat sleep in my crib? Check this out:

And what about that time I talked about diversions at work, and I told you about my friend dressing up as a clown. Well, here we are:

Just recently, I told you the sad story of my doll collection, the one that never got taken off its shelves. Is it weird that I took a picture of them?

Oh, oh, remember when I told you that one of these days I’d find the picture of my nerdy self holding my spelling bee trophies? I swear, my mother made me pose for this one:

And, here’s one just for fun. I was not kidding when I said I love music. I love it so much that I’m willing to show you this picture – of Photokid jamming to her Walkman:

So, there you have it, folks. Proof that at least a few of my stories were not made up. And for that, I’m thankful for pictures.

Do you like taking pictures? Are there embarrassing pics of you lying around somewhere?

I'm thankful for my church.

Church camp, New Mexico, 1992

I’m so thankful for my church. Actually, I’m thankful for several churches:

• The church where my parents met – Mom and Dad lived in different suburbs and attended different schools. If it hadn’t been for their church, they might not have met. And then where would I be?
• The church I grew up in – I was taught, encouraged, challenged, protected and loved at that church. The pastor, my Sunday school teachers, the choir directors, our youth group and even the little old ladies – they all played a part in my spiritual growth. I learned the books of the Bible and all its stories, I learned life lessons with illustrations involving toothpaste and construction paper hearts, I held crying babies in the nursery and taught crafts to the children at Bible school, and I sang beautiful songs that I’ll never forget (“In Remembrance” with the adult choir, “From East to West” at church camp, Michael W. Smith’s “Give it Away” with the youth choir). The church of my childhood helped make me who I am today.
• The church I was married in – Even though I didn’t grow or learn much here (I only attended on weekends home from college), it holds a special place in my heart thanks to my wedding. And the Christmas event when my brother and I performed “O Holy Night.” And my mother-in-law’s funeral, where almost 700 people piled into the sanctuary and even the pastor cried. But I’ll be honest, I mostly remember this church as the site for my wedding.
• The Baptist Student Union at college – The BSU encourages its members to get involved with a local church, rather than depending on this campus organization as a church family. But for the four years I was at Truman, the BSU was my church family. I attended a local church, and it was good. But it was at the BSU that I learned why I believe what I believe. It was there that I met many of my lifelong friends. It was there that I turned when I had questions or problems or devastating news or cause for celebration. It was there I learned how much I enjoy leading Bible studies, as well as praise and worship. It was my church home.
• My current church home – Pastor Bob is one of the most dynamic and convincing speakers I’ve ever heard. Pastor Todd is the most passionate and caring pastor I’ve ever met. Brett is the most talented worship director I’ve ever had the honor of working with. And the Sunday school class (or Adult Bible Fellowship, as we call them) we walked into 5 years ago has led to the most amazing and challenging experiences of my life. I learned massive amounts about doctrine and practice, I met and bonded with an amazing group of women through weekly Bible studies, I learned a boatload of lessons by planting a church with these people, and I will be friends with some of the folks I met in our ABF forever. (Cue “Friends are Friends Forever” now…)
• The church we planted – I learned a lot by planting a church. I did good. I made mistakes. I’m still hurt over how it all played out. But I wouldn’t change it for the world, because I know that we answered God’s call. And I can’t wait to see what His purpose was in having us experience what we did.
• The Church – God’s Church is an amazing phenomenon. The simple fact that we believe in salvation through Jesus Christ creates an automatic bond between fellow Christians. Like the way I knew I’d found a friend when the girl sitting next to me on the first day of grad school orientation told me she liked my ring (the one with “Jesus fish” on it, you know, so people know I’m a Christian). I’m thankful for my brothers and sisters who stand with me. You know who you are.

I’m thankful for all my churches. What about you? Has your life been affected by a church?

I'm thankful for my friend and mentor.

When I planned fundraising events at The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, I worked with a lot of volunteers. Kevin volunteered for the largest campaign I worked on, and we worked together for a few months my first year. Later, when I wanted to learn more about getting into public relations, I talked to him because he’d moved from non-profit work to agency work. Three years after we met and one coincidental twist later, I ended up working for him at an ad agency.

After six months of working for him, though, I’d had enough. We’d become fairly good friends, but I did not enjoy working with him! I was so fed up with being micromanaged and condescended to and treated like a child. I was tired of being told exactly how disappointing my mistakes were and specific steps to do it better next time. And I was sick of having to put everything into a spreadsheet.

My dad sent me a forward around that time, showing one penguin knocking another penguin through ice into the water. The forward said, “Ever feeling like doing this to someone?” A couple months later, my parents went on vacation and visited a zoo. The souvenir my parents brought back was a little penguin. My mom wrote “Kevin” on the tag.

Eventually, I transferred out of Kevin’s department and have since moved on to other jobs. In that time, I’ve realized that while my friend might have been a difficult manager, he taught me so much about public relations and communication and working in general. He taught me how to interact with people, how to think about what I’m doing (as opposed to just doing), how to see the big picture and ask the right questions, how to be organized and efficient and productive, how to do things right.

I was wrong to want to push him into the ocean. I’m thankful that Kevin has been my mentor.

Since we met in 2002, Kevin and I have become good friends. I still ask him for career advice, and he calls me at least once a month for the answer to a grammar or style question. I’ve even tried to convince Smitty that she could date him. (She couldn’t. He’s sooo not her type!) And this week, I’m praying for my friend and mentor big time. See, he’s having open heart surgery tomorrow, and even though I once wanted to smack the back of his head like a penguin, I can’t imagine my career without my mentor or my life without my friend.

Have you had a mentor in life? In your career?

I'm thankful for my job.

You all know I lost my job last fall. And some of you know that I’ve been on a quest to find my dream job since I graduated from college. I have a job now, but it’s not a dream job. But it’s a job. And when the unemployment rate is at a 14-year high, that’s nothing to sneeze at.

So, even on days when I’m bored or frustrated or angry or irritated or anxious or discontent, I’m thankful for my job. The job that helps pay my bills and allow me to contribute to our family. The job that puts food on Photobaby’s table.

Specifically, I’m thankful that my job is close to home, so I don’t spend as much money on gas and I can go home for lunch and see Mark and Photobaby if I want to. With our tight budget and crazy schedule, those are two pretty big benefits.

So today, I’m thankful for my job.

When asked if my cup is half-full or half-empty,

my only response is that I am thankful I have a cup.
~ Sam Lefkowitz

I'm thankful for blogging.

Since April 4, I've posted 124 times on this blog. I've changed the fonts and colors half a dozen times, I've changed the pictures, the layout and the background about as often, and I've yet to come up with a theme for this site. I've met several new friends and become hooked on dozens of other blogs. I've shared random thoughts ranging from major revelations to minor details, and you've responded to all of it. Well, most of it.

I enjoy blogging because it gives me a chance to connect with some people I miss (Amber and Chelley), and it's also given me the chance to get to know lots of people I never would have met otherwise. And rambling posts like this one aside, it gives me the opportunity to work on my writing skills. It's also been an interesting experiment in this newfangled social media the kids are talking about. And it's given me something to do - other than fold laundry, watch more TV and organize my family photos - in the evenings after Photobaby is in bed and Mark is still at work.

So for all those reasons and more, I'm thankful for blogging.

How has blogging affected your life?

Consider my world rocked.

Two weeks ago, Photobaby and I took an overnight trip to Des Moines. We drove home late Saturday night, and thankfully, Photobaby slept the entire way, leaving me with three hours by myself. To think. And pray.

This quiet time was awesome. And rough. I had worried about getting sleepy, but I was so engrossed in prayer and worship and conviction and a gamut of emotions that I was wide awake!

I won’t bore you with the details and everything I said to God and everything He said to me. But I do want to share my main revelation.

For the last couple of years, I’ve been holding onto my emotions tightly, keeping it all reined in and calling it “faith.” When things went wrong or differently than I’d expected or planned, I said, “It’s okay. God’s in control. I know it will turn out okay. I have faith.”

But it turns that even though I do have faith in God’s provision and His plan, I’ve still been hurt by some things. Actually, “hurt” doesn’t even cover it. Honestly, I’ve been devastated. Over and over, my world has been rocked.

The failure of our church plant.
The resulting loss of our close church family.
The divorce of three different couple friends.
Getting pregnant unexpectedly.
Several of my closest friends moving away.
Developing a serious illness and delivering my baby early.
Being laid off from my job while pregnant.

That’s a lot of stuff, right? And it seems that dealing with it Ohio Style hasn’t worked for me. (According to Ted on How I Met Your Mother, Buckeyes “push down the pain and if the pain starts to come up again, we push more pain down on top of it. Why confront something when you can avoid it?”)

So, I admitted – to God and to myself – that I can’t handle it all. That I haven’t dealt with this stuff. That I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t know how to be okay. I don’t know. How. To be. Okay.

And one of the songs that was playing as I was sobbing this all out was Casting Crown’s East to West. That song has spoken to me before, but that night, the line that pierced my heart and my stubborn pride was, “I'm not holding on to You, but You're holding on to me.” He’s been holding on to me – even when I convinced myself that I was fine, that I didn’t need anyone. I was okay.

But I wasn’t. And I’m not. I’m not okay. But He’s holding on to me.

So, today, I’m thankful that God rocks my world, because I know that’s one way He works in my life. And I’m thankful that I don’t have to be okay, because He’s holding on to me.

Has God rocked your world lately?

I'm thankful for an easily entertained child.

I don't know what it is about almost-empty water bottles, but Photobaby loves them. Loves waving them around and shaking them and just holding them, squishing the thin plastic and making it creak and squeak.

She also loves spoons of any variety - large, small, plastic, silver. She just loves sticking a spoon in her mouth. When she was going through a slightly more difficult phase a few months ago, I carried a ziploc bag of plastic spoons from Chipotle in my purse - just in case. I've got to tell you - they prevented more than one meltdown at HyVee!

These days, her non-traditional toy of choice is my set of keys. If she spots them as I get her out of the car, if she even hears them jangling as I put her in a cart, she's on a mission to find "her" keys. I'm sure it's not sanitary in the least, and I should probably clean them before handing them over. But really, let's be honest, I'm not that kind of mom. I just let her chew on them until it's time to unlock the car.

Then I push the unlock button, plop her in her car seat, buckle her in, tell her to say, "Bye-bye," to the keys, snatch them away and run to the other side of the car. She usually cries a bit when it's time to say goodbye to the keys, but by the time we're backing out of the parking lot, she's found another great toy: her socks.

I'm so thankful for an easily entertained child.

Do your kids or pets or nieces/nephews or students play with any unusual toys?

I'm thankful for a sweet baby.

My daughter, Annalyn - or Photobaby, as she's known around here - is the sweetest, smartest, cutest baby I know.

Is it possible I'm a little biased?!

Seriously, I cannot even express how thankful I am for this sweet little girl who has more personality than I could have imagined and who is more healthy than anyone ever expected. Praise God for this baby!

I'm thankful for my daughter. Who are you thankful for today?

A Free Song for You

I'm thankful for music.

I love music. I've been playing piano since second grade, and I've sung in choirs since middle school. I am a compulsive radio flipper, switching from one station to the next in my search for my favorite songs or a new song or any song, really. I sing to Photobaby about as much as I talk to her. And I have a song attached to almost every memory tucked away in my brain.

I enjoy all types of music, including some contemporary Christian music. So I'm also thankful for our CCM radio stations here in Kansas City. We have a local station courtesy of a seminary, as well as a K-LOVE station.


When I worked for a particularly negative company a few years ago, I listened to the Christian radio station every morning during my commute. It kept me grounded and focused on what's important and true. And I can't count the number of times I've been encouraged or convicted or inspired or entertained or comforted by something I heard on the radio. No matter the genre or what station it's on, or CD, or iTunes, music impacts my heart, my mind, my soul. I'm thankful for music.

And especially when it's free. Up above, that's a free song for you. Click on the button for Shaun Groves' song, Kingdom Coming.

What kind of music do you like? Does music play a part in your life?

I'm thankful for enough to eat.

When I was growing up, my parents didn't have much money. Sometimes, I think, they didn't have enough money. But we always had plenty to eat.

My entire adult life, I've struggled with money, struggled to pay my bills, struggled to manage my finances, to be a good steward. But I've always had plenty to eat.

So much so that as long as I can remember, I've been overweight. Clearly, I'm not starving. Despite my mistakes with money, God has continued to bless me and provide for me.

Not everyone has been so fortunate. So many - in this country and around the world - live in poverty. They don't worry about fitting into skinny jeans. They worry about finding enough food to feed their families just one meal a day.

This week, as I look into my fully stocked fridge and wonder how I'm going to make it through 5 days with no more Flex points left, a group of people is touring the Dominican Republic to raise awareness of poverty and the work being done by Compassion International. I encourage you to read about their experiences here; it's pretty incredible stuff.

Reading about Compassion has really made me think about how little I do for those living in poverty. I'm thinking and praying about how I can start doing something to help. What about you? Do you do anything to help the least of these?

I'm thankful for my husband.

I'm going to assume that you've noticed I'm not necessarily doing this list of gratitude in order. Because if I were, my husband would be a lot closer to the top than #5.

Mark and I don't have a perfect relationship. We rarely go a day without arguing, and we often find long car rides to be a great opportunity for an all-out fight. We've had days, weeks, even months when we weren't sure we could stand each other, weren't sure we could make our marriage work. We've thrown things (rarely and not at each other), we've slammed doors, and we've shouted things that I won't repeat here. And Lord knows I've said many things I wish I could take back.

But somehow - by God's grace - we still manage to make it work. And, with the exception of the last couple of weeks, the last year of our marriage has been better than ever.

Mark is my best friend, the one person I can truly be myself around and the one person I can tell anything. He listens to all my ideas and tells me anything is possible. He stands beside me and puts up with my crazy family and agrees with me when I say they're crazy. He's quick to apologize and quick to forgive. He makes me laugh and doesn't let me take life - or myself - too seriously. Well, at least he tries. He works his tail off to provide for Photobaby and me. And there's not enough room on this blog to list all the ways he's a good dad! He is honest and loyal and laidback, and well, cute!

So today - and every day - I'm thankful for my husband.

I'm thankful for the right to vote.

I'm thankful for the right to vote. But, I'll be honest, I'm also thankful that the election business will be over today. Politics stress me out and depress me, and no matter what happens today, I'm just glad we've seen the last of the signs, debates, buttons and polls. Well, at least for a couple of years!

It is inaccurate to say that I hate everything. I am strongly in favor of common sense, common honesty, and common decency. This makes me forever ineligible for public office.

~ H. L. Mencken

Today, I'm thankful for the right to vote. Have you voted yet?

UPDATE: Regardless of who you voted for, I think this post by Michael Hyatt, CEO of Thomas Nelson, is worth reading and considering.

I'm thankful for low gas prices.

Today, I'm thankful for low gas prices. For as long as it lasts, for whatever reason, I appreciate paying a reasonable amount to fill up my car.

When prices first started falling and everyone got so excited, just to see gas costing less than $4 a gallon, I was reluctant to share their joy. I thought that being happy with so little was giving in to The Man. (Whoever The Gas Man is...after this political season, I'm really not even sure about that anymore.) So I said that I wouldn't get excited about gas prices until it was $2 a gallon, just like it should be.

Cynical? Maybe. I like to call it realistic. (Not as cynical as whoever made this sign that we saw in Nashville!)

But here we are in November. And gas costs less than $2 a gallon in my neck of the woods. Despite my cynicism. Despite our overconsumption. Despite this crazy economic and political climate.

So, I'm excited. I have been since I saw gas hit $2.30 and keep falling. Every time I pass a gas station, as a matter of fact, I thank God. I know it may not last. As a matter of fact, I suspect prices will shoot up again after the election. But for now, for as long as it lasts, I'm thankful for low gas prices.

What are you thankful for today?

I'm thankful for pets.

This is my cat, Maggie.

She's the first cat I've owned as an adult but not my first cat. My parents always had cats when I was growing up. I think we even have a picture somewhere of me as a toddler, in my crib...with our cat, Winky. (Of course my grandma was convinced the cat would kill me, but my mom thought it was cute - "Look at the kitty in the baby's bed!")

Winky got run over by a car, but she wasn't our last family pet. I remember many nights as a teenager, crying to my cats, Hoover and Minnie. I'm not saying they knew why I was upset or agreed that my mom was the meanest mom EV-ER. But they knew I was sad. And they sat on my bed and let me pet them until I calmed down.

Mark got Maggie for me shortly after I graduated from college. He was traveling for work, and I was lonely. So he got me this tiny, abandoned kitten from the local shelter.

You've seen that picture of the ducks who follow around the dog? They imprinted on that dog, believing she's their mother. And that's kind of what happened to Maggie and me.

My cat really believes I'm her mama. It's true. She snuggles up to me in bed every night before Mark gets home - laying on my arm with her head on Mark's pillow. And most nights she climbs up on my lap and makes me hold her like a baby.

Now, in this picture, my baby is just yawning. But to be honest, she pretty much fears - and therefore hates - everyone except Mark and me. And she tolerates Annalyn. So, I'll admit that though she's the sweetest baby cat to me and she's never hurt anyone, Maggie may have shown this face at other times that did not involve yawning.

I know she's just a cat. But to me, she's my first baby. (Of course I love Annalyn more! But you know what I mean...!) So, today, I am thankful for pets.

Do you have a pet? What's your favorite animal?

Month of Thanksgiving

This month, in honor of Thanksgiving, I'm going to share something that I'm thankful for each day. My original plan was to just do it on Thursdays, but my list was too long! So, daily (or as close to it as I can) it is. I hope you'll share some things you're thankful for, too! Let's get started...

On November 1, I'm thankful for seasons. I love the changing weather and the different colors and even the different feelings that each season creates (Fall is a little bit fresh start, a little bit reminiscing; spring is hopeful and busy; summer is carefree and fun and hot; winter is Christmas and birthdays and family.).

As I've mentioned before, my favorite season is fall. I love the colors, the crisp air, the smell of burning wood. It reminds of me of the time in life when I met my husband. And now it's going to be Photobaby's season, too, with her October birthday!

So, today, as we enjoy brilliantly colored leaves and 75-degree temps, I am thankful for seasons.

What's your favorite season?