Happy Fun Girl: A Wretch Like Me. Chapter One.

Happy Fun Girl: A Wretch Like Me. Chapter One.:      I am so tired of being much afraid.         It says in revelation, "They triumphed over him (the enemy) by the blood of the Lamb and...

A Wretch Like Me. Chapter One.

     I am so tired of being much afraid.
        It says in revelation, "They triumphed over him (the enemy) by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death." 


        My life is simply not my own. I try to run it like it is a lot of times, but I truly do not love myself so much that I can keep what God has done for me quiet any longer.


        Like the woman that ran back from the well yelling, "Come! Meet the man who told me everything I ever did!" I simply want to tell everyone.


         I'm not perfect and do not have it all together. At all.
         But I'm moving forward, and walking into what God has planned for me & leaving this place new.
         I have shut my mouth and tried to keep quiet because I have daughters. I am a professional real estate broker. I am a children's author.
        And I am so tired of "being afraid" of what people might say.
        God is saying to me. "Tell your story. There is no condemnation in Christ." 
       Period.
       So here it is. Chapter one of my gory story that won no awards, or even an honorable mention when submitted to a Christian publishing contest last month. And that's okay. He will expand my territories in his own way, in his own time. 
     This is me, being brave and hoping that when it is said and done, I will hear God say, "Well Done".
        




I once heard that every great story has a tragic beginning. 
Mine is no different.

I’m trying to remember when I first knew that I had gotten so totally off track.
But, I can’t pinpoint it.
The process of self-destruction is much more subtle than that.
One bad thing leads to another and then another and another.
Before you know it, you are no longer the person you started out to be.

So here I am, living my double life.
Looking out the large picture window the view is uninspiring.
Depressing, really.
I watch the cars and their drivers pass along the freeway.
In a seemingly unconscious state of mind, they drive along, their wipers beating monotonously back and forth, back and forth.

Sometimes I participate in that same rat race, redundantly and passively participating in life.
Struggling to survive, I attempt to do the right thing, day in and day out, whether I feel like it or not.
Well, sometimes anyway.

I’m a 22 year old single mother of two preschool girls, and a top producing sales and circulation manager for the largest newspaper in the state.
 To me, it’s just a job. I desperately want to be in the newsroom telling a story.
However, this is a story I never thought I’d tell.
I’m also a call girl.
Actually, that’s just a nice way of saying, I am a whore.

Just like my dad said I would be.
I still can’t believe this is my life.
It seems surreal.


Growing up in a moderately sized Midwest town, I was a good girl.
Even in the midst of a lot of family dysfunction, I still always believed deep down that I was special and born to do great things.
Someday.
But, that was then, and this is now.
And I still can’t believe it.

Maybe it was a little melodramatic to say that my beginning was tragic.
Perhaps it was only so for my mother who found herself to be a 15 year old, pregnant prom queen. Or my father, a  high school football player with the boy next door smile and a personality that could light up a room. It was a “situation” to say the least for two Catholic families in 1967.
But courage trumped controversy.
She chose life.

It would seem unfair and ungrateful to say that my beginning was tragic, when in fact, it was brave.
Tears well up in my eyes as I remember being a young girl with long blonde hair, a contagious smile and a bright and favored future.
Just two short decades of dysfunction was all it took, to become this person, now sitting in a musty, cheap chain motel room.
I’m waiting on a regular named “John,” though there is nothing regular about him or this situation that on some days leaves me nearly suicidal.

Like I said before, I was a good girl.
I was a Girl Scout for God’s sake!

And I’d been a Junior Leader volunteer at the YMCA, played basketball, performed in band, flag guard, synchronized swimming and class plays. I participated in junior league bowling, mat maids, pep squad, served several consecutive years on student council including President, was a founding member of Students Against Drunk Driving and was co-editor and editor of my high school newspaper.

In my spare time, I took guitar lessons, wrote songs, read hundreds of books, spent weekends at the mall, roller skated every Friday night with friends and was still the number one babysitter pick for at least four families.

Of all those things, my most cherished and happiest memories were spent doing things with the Girl Scouts. We would camp, make crafts and volunteer for community service projects.
I’ve always had a heart that loves people.
My parents struggled in many ways and we were certainly not well off, but I always understood that there were people far less fortunate than myself.
I had high hopes of growing up and helping them any way I could.

High hopes.
“Just what makes that little old ant…think he can move that rubber tree plant?”
Much like the ant, I had high hopes, and felt certain I could move mountains.
Dr Seuss told me I would, “Kid, you’ll move mountains!”
And I believed him.

Everyone knew that I would be the first one in my family to ever finish college, and someday, I would be a famous writer.
Or a super hero. I always wanted to be a super hero too.
But, I’ve lived a life of compromise and contradictions and that of course, has cost me my cape.

Instead, I’m in sales.
At the office selling papers. Here, selling myself.



I credit my success in sales, back to Girl Scouts and my ability to hustle hundreds of boxes of Thin Mints in the middle of freezing Iowa winters.
“If you want to go to summer camp, you better sell those cookies!” my mom would threaten.

And camp I did. I spent several winter and summer vacations roasting marshmallows, making s’mores, singing silly songs by the campfire and learning what it meant to be kind, generous, careful, considerate, willing to help people at all times and becoming an independent and resourceful young lady.

 Girl Scouting taught me to be a leader.
 I never dreamed I’d lead myself into such a mess.
And then it hit me.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard my little girl voice reciting the important words that I had memorized long before I became jaded and cynical.
I recited it word for word.
“On my honor, I will try, to serve God and my country, to help people at all times..”
On my honor, I will try, to serve God…

On my honor, I will try, to serve God…

Serve God?
Tears welled in my eyes, my heart began to physically ache, and an enormous knot formed deep down in my chest.
I couldn’t breath.
I felt nauseous and thought I might seriously throw up.

Looking at the clock, I realized my next appointment would be here in just half an hour.
 Instinctively following the same pattern I’d formed for years when life got too real, I began to search for the joint that I had put in the nightstand drawer.
Odd.
“I know I put it in here,” talking out loud to myself as I frequently do.
“Where did it go?”

Frantically searching now as the digital clock clicked to the next number, I removed the phone book, the pad of paper and the book that comes standard in every motel room, the Gideon’s Bible.
 I could tell by the crackling noise of the hardcover that it wasn’t used often in this rat trap.
 I began to flip through the crisp, gold leaf lined pages.
“Did I put it in here for safe keeping?”

It has been medically documented that smoking marijuana can hinder short term memory. Without officially participating in a research study, I will vouch for that as I am constantly forgetting where I place things like my billfold, car keys….my car.
Funny that it doesn’t actually help you forget those things that you really wish you could.

Things like waking up from a drunken stupor only to realize that you had been sexually assaulted by a group of guys you thought were kind of your friends.
Or again after binge drinking at a frat party, when two thoughtful fraternity boys  walked you back to the dorm room and were caught in the act of rape by a friend who hurredly left. Later, she would explain that she just assumed you were a slut after all.

Wouldn’t it be nice to forget the inappropriate actions of  relatives, the man you babysat for, or even your babysitter?
 It would be helpful to forget about the band teacher you adored who touched you in not so teacher ways during your private clarinet lessons and then lied his way out of it and made you feel like an attention seeking, uncomfortable piece of crap for the remainder of junior high.
“She must have misunderstood.”
Yes, I suppose when learning to play a B flat, it is important to have a hand rubbing up and down your inner thigh.
Liar.
I’m not bitter, I’m just sayin.

Perhaps if I could forget about the time I hitchhiked across the country to get back to the Navy base and was picked up by a JB Hunt truck driver, who befriended me with his teddy bear disposition, and then later held a knife to my neck while he raped me in the back of his semi out in the middle of nowhere.
That time, I thought I’d truly end up dead in a ditch.
But I remember crying out to God in my head to save me.
And he did. Miraculously.
Thanks for that by the way Lord, just in case I forgot to say so then.

Somehow, in every situation, I always found a way to blame myself.
It was my fault.
I drank too much, flirted too much and wore the Madonna wanna be jeans with the tear in the thigh.

“Why do these things keep happening to me?” I often wondered.

 I thought about it all for just a minute, heard the next clock click, and then  remembered the hopscotch, the jacks, the hide and seek, the days on grandma and grandpa’s farm, the camping in the back yard and watching the stars and searching for UFO’s with my best friend Monica.

I remembered my beloved Barbie Dream House and the hours I spent creating my perfect life.
Oh, dear God.

 I thought about the endless rides on my purple banana seat bike with the flowered basket, and the wind blowing my hair while I rode like the wind, singing my favorite songs at the top of my lungs.
”Well I keep on thinking ‘bout you, sister golden hair so bright…”
“C’mon people now, smile on your brother, every body get together try to love one another right now…”

Two tears slid silently down my cheek, and opened the floodgate, for all the rest to follow.

On my honor…I will try….to serve God.
On my honor…I will try….to serve God.

I fell to the side of my bed, broken and sobbing with everything in me.
I cried out my apologies and asked for a chance of do-overs, to a God that I didn’t ever even consider, let alone serve.
A God, I wasn’t sure I really believed in anymore.

Every bad decision I made had brought me to this place.
The lies were sweet and convincing.
Deceptive and cunning.
That’s the thing about deception, it’s so deceiving.

All of the things that happened over time, hardened a once innocent, loving heart, and made me what I am now.
Dirty, used, trash.
Forever unforgiven.
Broken and ashamed.

I reached again for the bible on the bed.
I desperately needed to cleanse my mind from the constantly tormenting thoughts.

But, this time, when I opened it, the words seemed to leap off the page!
It was just like when you’re little, and someone reads you a story and the, “Once upon a time…” seems so super magnified. It was just like that, coming at me in 3D.

“While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

Tears so totally filled my eyes that I could barely see through the blurriness.
I read it again.

“While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

“Oh, God!” I cried out.
“I am so sorry!”
“Please forgive me!”
Then I cried and cried, until I could cry no more.
An amazing and calming presence came over me.

Immediately empowered in a way that words cannot explain, I got up off the floor, got dressed and walked out.
I boldy strolled right past my next appointment, not really even noticing him until he called out, “Hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Home,” I said with a smile.

Happy Fun Girl: What a Bird Brain!!!

Happy Fun Girl: What a Bird Brain!!!:                                                                                                                   (photo courtesy of 123r...

What a Bird Brain!!!

                                                                                                                  (photo courtesy of 123rf.com)




Typically, I'm not a "the cup is half full" kind of girl.
I'm more of a "the cup is at least 2/3 full, but ready for overflowing!!" type.

Yes.
I am also the kind of girl that totally over uses exclamation points.
On paper. And in real life.

Lately though, I've been a little gun shy.
(Sorry for the bad timing on that phrase...and dear God, please be with those who are suffering so badly in Colorado. I can't even imagine the heartache.)

Any kind of loss is painful.
Loss of jobs.
Loss of passion and purpose.
Loss of loved ones.


And losing at love.


Some days, even hoping for better days is unbearable.
Ya know what I mean?

I've been blind sided by things I didn't see coming.

And the charming, child like faith I usually have, begins to feel more like a farce.

But then God swoops in, just like the great Jehovah Nick-of-Time that he is.
And I'm awed by his awesomeness.

For the last year or so, I have really felt that I was going to be moving.
But I remained immobile.
Totally stuck in my comfort zone which actually, eventually just got quite uncomfortable.
I haven't made the best decisions this year and didn't want to make another huge mistake.
So I just waited and prayed.


Finally, I said, "I don't care Lord. It's all yours anyway. If you want me to move, sell my house."
Not even three days later, it went under contract with a client I'd been working with for a very long time.
He hadn't even seen it!

"Don't you want to see it first?"
"No. Not really. I saw pictures on the internet."
"Did you see the cracks in the tile and the jacked up drywall?"

Don't get me wrong.
I love my house.
It's been our home.
Not necessarily a Ward and June Cleaver family style of living has gone on here, but a lot of truly wonderful memories.
And some, not so much.
I choose to remember the good.

But then I also started to remember how bad things have gone and I just kept waiting, day after day, for the other shoe to drop or the rug to once again, get yanked out from under me unexpectedly.

This time, at least I would be expecting it.

One day, a few weeks ago, I was out laying in the pool and quietly freaking out in my head and talking to God about the move and all of the what if's.
What if I can't find a place to live?
What if Natalie hates me forever for pulling her out of all she's ever known since she was two?
What if I move her back to the big city and she falls in with the wrong crowd and becomes a crack head?
What if you know who thinks I'm stalking him?
What if nothing works out and I can't make ends meet?

All of a sudden, God plunked into my head the verse in Matthew that says something about "not worrying about your life."

Okay, I just looked it up. It's Matthew 6:25.

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet, your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?"

I'm like a bird!

So, after imagining myself more like a big fat giant buzzard, who was going to end up dining on dead deer flesh and other disgusting road kill-catessens, I noticed the cutest, tiniest little bird land on the waterfall.

And he started to drink.
And then I glanced at the sky and started to think.
Good one God.

But he wasn't done.
(God, not the bird.)
Several minutes later, another beautiful, colorful bird landed on the privacy fence in front of me, just under the mulberry tree they've been snacking on since spring.

He had the brightest, longest, almost fluorescent green worm hanging from it's mouth.
I'm pretty sure he turned to smile at me, sort of smugly, with his bright yellow bird beak.

Since I was in the pool, I didn't have my Birds of Texas bible with me and wondered what kind it was.
Then it occurred to me.
A MOCKING bird probably.
What a bird brain I can be!

And then I started to cry.
God is so good.
He's there in it all.
If I will just remember to look for him.
And give thanks for everything.

The house actually closed yesterday.
And now I'm ready to move.
I have a new perspective on things.
Before, I was dreading the what if's and the packing and didn't even know if I should.
I found myself complaining a lot about all that I have.
"There's just so much stuff!"

But today, it's different.
I feel so totally grateful for it all.
The good and the bad.
I don't have a lot of nice or fancy things, but I sure do have a lot more than most in the world.
Look at all I have to pack!
Or give away!

I shouldn't be looking at this as a burden, but a blessing for all that I do have.

Thank you God that I have a closet full of clothes, including the fabulous Not Your Daughter's Jeans that I finally bought from The Thing Is Boutique immediately after closing. (I've pined for those pants for over a year!)

Thank you that there is food in my fridge and cabinets to pack.

Thank you that I have pretty little things all over my house that mean something special to me.

Thank you that I have had a roof over my head, and daughters in their beds.

And thank you especially, for graciously loving me through all of my complaining, fears, endless tears, and disobedience and doubt.

I'm gonna go out on a 'limb' here.....
And say THANK YOU in advance for moving me in a new direction and giving me wings to fly!


And THANK YOU that I can see with my bird's eye view, my cup really is, totally overflowing!!!!!

Happy Fun Girl: Ranting & Raving about Channing Tatum

Happy Fun Girl: Ranting & Raving about Channing Tatum: Well, I've just enjoyed the largest tempter tantrum that my fixin' to be 15 year old daughter has probably ever thrown.  (I know. I swore I'...

Ranting & Raving about Channing Tatum

Well, I've just enjoyed the largest tempter tantrum that my fixin' to be 15 year old daughter has probably ever thrown. (I know. I swore I'd never use the term fixin' when I moved to Texas. Amazing what 16 years can do to you.)

I'm grateful that she really is a lovely girl, because when I went through this stage with her older sisters they were bold and disrespectful enough to tell me to 'F' off.

I have a sign in the back yard that says, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."

I roll my eyes and apologize to the sky when I read it some days.

Also, I'm pretty sure I'm not the only God loving mother on the planet who deals with this kind of thing.

Once, when I was in third grade I told my mother that I hated her.

Once.

Today, I am hating on Channing Tatum and the Movie Rating Review Board.

Because of 21 Jump Street.

Rated R.

Really?

(Okay maybe I'm also just a little fleshed out and frustrated at him because I secretly would like to see "Magic Mike," but I won't.)

In the 80's, I used to love watching Johnny Depp on 21 Jump Street!

They were great role models, so what happened in 20 some years?

I agreed to go to Redbox and get the movie for her and her BFF to see.

It never occurred to me it would be rated R.

But, being the basically honest, good girl that she is, she admitted it was "R" as she walked to the box.

The defense argument began after hearing the description.

The movie, 21 Jump Street, is rated R for crude and sexual content, pervasive language, drug material, teen drinking and some violence.

I went home and watched the trailer.

And LOL'd.

I believe the term "titty twister" falls under crude and sexual content.

She's going into 9th grade. 

Her own sisters have twisted.

She should be a lawyer.

"I've been offered drugs and I said no!"

"I've been offered alcohol and I said no!"

"I've heard the "F" word a million times and Channing Tatum is F-ing hot!"

True that.

"I'm going to a bigger school. It's the real world, and it's not always pretty. You say that yourself all the time! I know what to do and what not to do. Just because I see people drinking or talking about drugs in a movie, doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to use them!"

For real.

She's not.

Thank you Jesus for this fabulous girl who wins the title for being, "The Most Righteous One in the Whole Family."

Just yesterday we had a sit down talk about writing, my blog and the books that I'm going to write.

I want to be honest, but it could be hurtful to her.

So, we talked about it.

I admitted to making some very bad choices and I didn't want my bad choices to reflect on her, because she is a good choice maker.

I apologized for not always being a great role model.

And then I started crying.

Some of my testimony is hideous, and downright embarrassing.

But I have always, always wanted to be honest with my kids.

Many have disagreed with me and told me to shut up and keep it to myself.

But I've been lied to before about important things. 

And it manifests mistrust in many ways.

I've also been a single mother with 3 girls for a gazillion years who know me way too well, and I don't think they would buy it or appreciate it if I tried to BS them.

While I am terribly sorry for some aspects of my life that are so shameful, I'm also grateful, because I truly believe that the crudeness of my credentials validates Christ.

Most of the time.

And maybe not to every one's standards.

I just care about The One.

I've also been thinking a lot about what Michael Hyatt wrote in one of his recent posts, "What kind of legacy do you want to leave for your grandchildren?"

Ouch. 

My legacy is a little legendary.

And not so much in a good way.

I further explained to Natalie, "Honey, we each have to find our own revelation of Christ. Mine came through hard times. Many of those were stupid, selfish and self-imposed."

"And I know you're sick of me falling apart during worship, and carrying on about God stuff these days, but honestly Nat...if he weren't real, wasn't living in me, and holding me every single step of the way, especially lately, I wouldn't even be here right now."

"I know mom."

"I believe."

And then I started crying again.

"I can't, not, tell this stuff. I feel compelled to share. All I want to do is let other hurting people know that God is real, and no matter how many times you screw up, he loves us and forgives us and moves us forward with his direction and his plans. He's called me for a purpose, just like he has you..and I don't want to ignore it just because it doesn't sound...nice."

This is sort of how I remember it a day later anyway. 

I can only hope it was this thoughtful.

As much as I love The Waltons and Andy Griffith, I find that life is not much like that these days.

It can be dirty and dysfunctional.

We are a messed up bunch of people with issues.

A lot of us anyway.

 

Life sometimes deserves an R rating.

My story, if told on the big screen would be at least that.

If I'm being really honest, maybe even XXX. 

"To the pure, all things are pure...to those who're defiled, unbelieving, nothing is pure."

I so totally get that.

It's hard to relate if you haven't been there.

If you haven't been defiled or unbelieving.

I have.

And I've also been pulled out of that miry pit that stinks and set on a mountain top. 

I wear perfume called Pure just to catch a whiff of what that might smell like.

"I will accept you as fragrant incense when I bring you out from the nations and gather you from the countries where you have been scattered, and I will be proved holy through you in the sight of nations. Then you will know that I am the Lord." Ezekiel 20

Christ IS pure.

And it's in his perfection only, that I can get a two thumbs up, five star rating.

And, from women all around the world, "Thank you Lord for Channing Tatum." :D

 

Happy Fun Girl: "It's not You, It's Me."

Happy Fun Girl: "It's not You, It's Me.": We've all said it. The little white lie we tell when we don't want to hurt someone's feelings. I struggle with lying sometimes and af...

"It's not You, It's Me."

We've all said it.
The little white lie we tell when we don't want to hurt someone's feelings.

I struggle with lying sometimes and after using the phrase, "It's not you, it's me," to a guy once, I realized that he probably knew I was lying.

So, I tried to make it right.
People deserve honesty, do they not?

Heavy sigh.
"Okay, it's not me. It's you."

Yikes.
That sounded much nicer in my head.
And I'm sure it hurt his feelings.

Not that he wasn't a nice guy.
He was.
Not that I'm materialistic.
I'm not.

He just wasn't my guy, and I didn't see the purpose in wasting time pretending.
I don't see myself in a long term, committed relationship with a guy who rides a skateboard to my house and who's backyard looks like the second coming of Sandford and Son. 

I think later, he even changed his ringtone to the theme song.
That's pretty funny.
And on his behalf I will say that he is one of the most amazing and talented carpenters I've ever known.
Aside from Jesus of course.

He's a good looking, nice guy, but strictly friend material.
The last time we hung out he tried to persuade me to go skinny dipping in my pool.
"I am not skinny dipping with you."
"You're too uptight."
"You're too stoned."

Thinking of other nice guy situations where I've used similarly stupid lines, I remember telling my good friend years and years ago,  "I'm sorry. I love you like a brother."

Later I found out from another nice guy that this excuse is like the kiss of death for men.
Lip Smacker anyone?

But it's true, it was and always will be, a brotherly kind of love. 
I've tried to feel more, I just don't.
Who wouldn't love a guy that always said, "It's all about you, Tina. It's all about you."
Thank you!
I know, right? 

It was apparently only "about me" when he went and ratted me out for smoking pot to my pastor.
Who does that?
Oh my gosh!
That ten year old tattle tale maneuver got him kicked out of my Circle of Trust.
Forever.

Yes, I was in a not so good place.
But still.
Who died and made him the accountability police?
Gheeesh!
I just busted him out of rehab!

It was about ME for the love of God!!
Am I right?

Wrong.

Rick Warren assured me with the very first line in The Purpose Driven Life.
It's not about you.
Gulp.
Relax, breathe.

Okay, I get it.
I have many musician friends who are always putting out new CD's, and I admit, I'm sometimes envious.
In fact, tonight, I hope to make it to my friend Chris Taylor's release party for his latest project, "Blue" in San Antonio.

One day years ago, I was driving down I10 and thinking that I'd really like to have my own CD someday. I said out loud, "I wonder what the cover would like?"

Immediately, I heard the "Holy Spirit who Occasionally Likes to Sass Me" say, "Gee. I don't know Tina, maybe a picture of the world.....revolving around you."

Hoooly Spirit Slaaaaaam!!!!
Ouch.
Okay.


Thank you God for pounding down my pride a few notches.
It's not about me.
It's about you.
It's all about YOU!

I'm coming back to the heart of worship.

Happy Fun Girl: The Fear Factor and "WTF?"

Happy Fun Girl: The Fear Factor and "WTF?":                                                                                              Photo courtesy of Copper Pointe Church  ...

The Fear Factor and "WTF?"

                                                                                   Photo courtesy of Copper Pointe Church

                                                                                                                       
Way Too Funny!
What does it mean?
In life, there are always unknowns.

I seem to have more of them lately than usual.

And I don't care for it.

I'm not big on surprises and am working very hard at trying to let Christ lead me from chaos and confusion. 

My youngest daughter Natalie, loves, loves, loves surprises!

And just surprising me.

Which is really just a nice way of saying, "scaring the crap out of me."

I've had it.

Last weekend Nat was busy babysitting, and I came back into the house pretty late and all of the lights were turned off.

The kitchen lights.

My desk light.

The reading lamp by the couch.

Off.

"That's weird," I thought to myself.

"I don't think I turned those lights off." 

Making my typical confused look, I scratched my head and started to re-walk my recent steps.

"Oh my gosh! I know I didn't turn those lights off."

The dogs were acting normal, and I was momentarily scared that maybe I wasn't functioning quite so normal.

Breathing deeply and remembering that God is not the author of confusion and I have a sound mind, I decided to just let it go.

So, I opened up the shower curtain to draw a calming Calgon bath, when Natalie jumps up from out of the tub with great Friday the13th zeal and screams as loud as she can in her demonic man voice.

I think I yelled "JESUS" at the top of my lungs, while my heart beat threatened an attack for the next 15 minutes, which is about how long it took her to finally stop laughing.

That's not funny.

I don't like to be scared.

I admit that I have fear issues.

And I'm not saying this is why, but as a small child I was dragged kicking and crying into haunted houses I didn't want to go to and I've had people pop out of darkened stairwell closets with pantyhose over their heads, scaring me so badly that I nearly peed my pants.

I think I tinkled just a tad.

Now, here I am, 45 years old and I still get up out of bed to shut my closet doors if they are cracked even an inch.

It probably will not get me a spot on My Strange Addiction, but it's still not funny.

Just last night, I was coming out of the bathroom, all the lights were off in the house, and I was getting ready to go to bed.

Turning the corner to go into the kitchen to get my end of the day ice fix, she jumped out at me unexpectantly again.

"BOO!!"

This time I was super ticked!

Enough already with frickin' Freddy Krueger games!

"What the "F"?"

"Quit doing that to me!"

I ranted at the top of my lungs through all of the reasons that I don't find that fun.

She and her older sister Chelsea were laughing so hysterically on the bed, they had tears pouring out of their eyes.

Absolutely enraged, I threatened to take her phone if she did that to me one more time.

The unexpected is scary.

We are supposedly moving in less than 10 days and I've been pretty good lately to just embrace the change with enthusiasm and trusting that God's plans will be for good.

(I pray this is his plan.)

I was thinking about how Peter must have felt when he saw Jesus call to him on the water.

Peter was in the boat and the wind and waves were getting kind of crazy.

The disciples cried out in fear, "It's a ghost!"

Today, you know they would have totally been saying, "WTF?" 

Jesus, being the water walker kind of guy that he was, spoke to them calmly, "Don't be afraid. Take courage. I am here!"

Show off.

As much as I've often wanted to walk on water, I know it's not so realistic.

I have a hard enough time just drinking 8 glasses a day.

Peter stepped out of the boat, and began to walk on the water towards Jesus.

Then he got side tracked by looking all around him at the chaos of the weather conditions, and he started to sink.

That's what I do sometimes too.

I take my eyes off the prize, and quickly realize, I'm sinking.

And I'm scared to death I'm going to drown.

One of my devotional verses on my YouVersion Bible app today was, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to to do with punishment." 1 John something or other.

If we are living fearfully, we are not fully experiencing or accepting his perfect love.

In the footnotes, my Tyndale NLT study bible says, "If we are afraid of the future, eternity, or God's judgement, we can remind ourselves of God's love."

"We know that he loves us perfectly and we can resolve our fears first by focusing on his immeasurable love for us, and then by allowing him to love others through us. His love will quiet your fears and give you confidence."

God is love and Fear is not of God.

Neither is scaring your mother half to death, but I'm confident she won't be doing that again anytime soon.

Fear of losing her phone privileges will surely prevent that from happening again.  

Have You Missed the Latest Issue?

One of the hardest things for me to do is to stand silently in the check out lane, without caving and purchasing one of the latest cooking magazines.

I have my favorites.
Every Day with Rachel Ray.
Bon Appetite.
Food Network.
Paula Deen.

And of course, because I live in Texas, Southern Living.
But then it occurred to me...I haven't received the latest issue in my mailbox??

And that's when I remembered that I did get a renewal notice, okay, I probably got like four...but I forgot to send any of them back in.
Bummer.


'Cause I could really get behind baking up a Red Velvet Berry Cobbler!

Not that I need more magazines.
I'm packing.
And realizing that I am in fact, a magazine hoarder.

I don't like to buy them at the stand, and prefer to get them in the mail.
But, I guess it would help if I would renew.
It's cheaper that way, and I don't miss any 'issues'.

Often I reflect on everyday events and happenings to try and see the bigger picture, often looking for life lessons as opposed to cooking lessons.

Picture a Pineapple Upside Down Cake.

God seems to use regular, boring mundane things to help me live a little more sane.
And I appreciate that.
So as I'm thinking about how stupid I was to not renew on time, he began nudging me about renewal.

And how much easier it is to keep renewing and maintaining my mind, as opposed to having to perform a full blown exorcism from the garbage that can collect up in there for days on end.


Therefore, producing some seriously stinky fruit.
Fruit you would not want to use in a cover cobbler for sure!
Some days I am better prepared than others.

"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is...his good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2

Oh man! I loooove that verse!

Now, while I'm not 100% sure it's his will that I have all, "42 Ideas for Porch, Patio and Garden," I am
convinced that it would totally be his will for me to have, "42 Guys and a Truck," help me move the trainload of crap that I need to haul back to the big city.

Here is how I am 'handling' the renewing of my mind during this somewhat scary move after 13 years of living in my Mayberry known as Mason, Texas.

When my mind starts cooking up things like;

"Nothing is really going to change."
"You're not going to make it."
"You are ruining your daughter's life."
"You don't know what you're doing."
"No one wants you there either."
"Where has God been in the middle of the mess you're already in?"
"You are still not good enough."

I have to constantly argue back, "God knows the plans he has for me. They are plans to prosper me and not harm me. They are plans to give me hope and a future."

"Fear not, for I am with you."


"He will restore the years that the locusts have eaten."


"If God is for me, who can be against me."


"Greater is he that is in me, than he that's in the world."


"I am perfectly and wonderfully made."


"I am the righteousness of Christ."


"I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength."


"Create in me a pure heart, Oh God...renew a steadfast spirit within me."

Perhaps it's not so pure to inwardly pine and whine for the blueberry/strawberry parfait on the July cover of Southern Living.
But I have to tell you...
I did just that last night in Dollar General, and mentioned it to no one.

Today, at exactly 3:50 p.m., I got a text from my good friend Kim Corbitt.

"I made you a birthday parfait and I will be at your house in five minutes!"

:D
WHOOP-WHOOP!!

I can't wait to see what he does with, "Small Budgets, Huge Makeovers!"


"He will give you the desires of your heart."


I highly recommend becoming a SUBSCRIBER!

Happy Fun Girl: Celebrate Good Times...Come On!!

Happy Fun Girl: Celebrate Good Times...Come On!!: My birthday is Sunday. Years ago I'd gotten a card in the mail that I have thought about every single year since then. A lot of my mement...

Celebrate Good Times...Come On!!

My birthday is Sunday.

Years ago I'd gotten a card in the mail that I have thought about every single year since then.
A lot of my mementos and paperwork are piled in stacks and boxes right now so I can't really lay my hands on it for a word for word quote.

The part I remember so fondly was hand written and said, "...as we celebrate the day you were born."
For some reason, it touched me and put a totally different spin on what I typically think about when I think of my birthday.

This most special day had once been taken over by anticipation of presents, candles and cake.
And who doesn't love making wishes?
But it's so much more than that.

It is a day to embrace the awesome "gift" of life!
A celebration of the greatest complexity.


My mom was just a kid herself, barely 16 years old.

Courage trumped controversy.
She was brave.
And I was born.
July 8th, 1967.


"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart..."
 Jeremiah 1:5


".....God, who set me apart from my mother's womb and called me by his grace..." 
Galatians 1:15

We were created, by a creator for a purpose.
He knew us and created us.
I praise God because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

King David said, "His eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in his book before one of them even came to be."

I wanted to give a Birthday Shout Out to people I know with this same birth date.
Debbie Owen, owner of the Mason Garden Market, who God lays on my heart many days of the year. 
He loves you so much!


And my sweet Aunt Sandy, who phoned faithfully with Uncle Alan, every single childhood year, to wish me a happy birthday.
Thank you! You have no idea how much I loved getting those calls!

I have many wonderful birthday memories, some much more exciting than others.
But all still wonderful in their own ways.

I got to thinking about how he has set us apart....and those who are really, really set apart!
So, for fun, I Googled to see which celebrities share my date, and how they celebrate.

Fun, Fun!!
Here are my Celebrity Shout Outs for July 8th:

Kevin Bacon....I will never forgot how you made us want to dance our butts off in 1984!!
                        And the original FOOTLOOSE was waaaaay, waaaay better than the latest release!! :)


Jeffrey Tambor....Happy Birthday!! I'm sorry that I thought you were in the band "Arrested Development" in which case I would have commented on Tennessee. :( my apologies.


Jaden Smith....Oh my gosh!! Give it to 'em...The Misfits! Will Smith's son...what a handsome boy!
1 Cor. 4 in The Message says, "We are the Messiah's Misfits." I love that!  

Joan Osborne.... I think God was one of us...JESUS!! :)
No, seriously....that song helped change my world! Blessings and Happy Birthday!

Steve Mason...Jars of Clay...Midwest minds must think alike...CREAM CORN...Woo-Hoo!!
Interestingly, Jars of Clay came out with "Flood" about the same time I was listening to Joan singing "One of Us." Wow! God was really rockin' my world in the mid 90's!

And last but certainly not least, Happy Birthday, Toby Keith!
I'm going to refrain from talking about how lovely those lips are, 'cause it's probably not very edifying :)
No, seriously, How do you like me now??? 


lol!

Happy Fun Girl: Independence Day...Oh, Say Can YOU see???

Happy Fun Girl: Independence Day...Oh, Say Can YOU see???: (photo courtesy of  Provincetown Tourism Office ) I absolutely love the 4th of July! Independence Day. For a girl who used to take ...

Independence Day...Oh, Say Can YOU see???

(photo courtesy of Provincetown Tourism Office)



I absolutely love the 4th of July!
Independence Day.

For a girl who used to take great pride in being very independent, I have come to accept on this day...
July 4th, 2012, I am very, very needy.
In a state of complete and total dependence.

My mother would be horrified.
She taught me to be strong and if I ever wanted something I had to, "Do it yourself."


I'm reminiscing today about Independence Days of my past.

When I was a girl, my mom would pack up the giant red cooler that none of us wanted to help carry.
She'd load it with tasty picnic goodies like bologna sandwiches, grapes, carrot sticks, candy bars and lemonade.


The family would head out in the station wagon to Harlan Rogers Baseball Park, spread our ginormous blanket in the outfield, and sit and snack while watching the amazing fireworks show.


Sometimes I would sit Indian style next to my mom and point with the obligatory, "Oooohhh!! Aaggghh!!"
Other times, I just wanted to be left alone on my side of the blanket.

Soaking up the silent splendor of watching those amazing colorful lights fall to the ground, I would lay on my back, and imagine great and wonderful things.


I would watch the fireworks, turn to the moon, and whisper to him that someday, I would reach for the stars.

Along with Lurch, Zit Face and Earthquake, I was also called a dreamer.

And I was.
Unfortunatley, I, just like Joseph, with his Technicolor Dream Coat and all, could not keep my mouth shut about what I thought my future might look like.
Note to others: Generally it's a good idea to keep euphoric fantasies to yourself.
My mom would say, "You're not that special Queenie."


It sounds a little harsh, but I get it.
She has always been much more of a realist than I am.

"Well, let me just tell you how the real world works. No one is ever going to give you anything. If you want something, you better work your butt off for it. You can not count on anyone but yourself. And if you want something done right, you better do it yourself. And don't ever trust anyone!"


Hence my, Little Miss Independence-ness.


Talk about dampening my sparkler.

Not ironic at all that I grew up to be the girl who in high school, had to write a paper reflecting on the concept of, "No man is an Island."


I was the only one in class who wrote an, "I am Woman. Absolutely YES! I Can..be an island," essay.
I was convinced that I would rock that Robinson Crusoe island lifestyle without so much as a furry monkey helper.
(I paused to reflect only briefly, how nice it might be to eventually find a loin cloth wearing hottie on the other side of the island at some point...) just sayin.'

Close to 30 years later, I have finally realized something so contrary to the lyrics that I have lived by and believed.


I am Woman.
But I'm not so strong.
And I'm not invincible.
And you can bend and probably break me.



I'm just learning to be much less dependent on myself, because my plans usually back fire,  and so lately, I'm a whole lot more dependent on God.


Who created me to shoot for the stars!
And you too!

"You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July...." Katy Perry, "Firework"

Ignite the light.
"You are the light of the world...like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden." Matthew 5:14

Let it shine.
"In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly father." Matthew 5:16

Let 'em go....Oh, Oh, Oh!!

Happy Fourth of July!!!

Happy Fun Girl: Hide and Seek...Where are YOU?

Happy Fun Girl: Hide and Seek...Where are YOU?: I've recently had the opportunity to take over my daughter's babysitting job, mostly because I needed the cash, but also because I really do...

Hide and Seek...Where are YOU?

I've recently had the opportunity to take over my daughter's babysitting job, mostly because I needed the cash, but also because I really do enjoy it.

Probably, because I'm about five years old myself on most days and it's just super fun to play with small children who are not yet old enough to be burdened with bills, Obamacare, life changing decisions and world peace.

So I play.
Colton recommended a game of Hide and Seek.
I love Hide and Seek!
Except when you're playing with someone who keeps breaking the rules.

When it was his turn to count....he tried to peek.
When it was his turn to hide...he kept hiding in the same place over and over again.

Amusing how God uses simple things like a children's game to teach me lessons.

'Cause I do the same thing.
I hide in my back yard.

And feel much like Adam and Eve probably did when God called out, "Where are YOU?"
Lower than a snake belly.

But, instead of trying to cover myself with fig leaves, I rub my nasty little smoking fingers with basil leaves or branches from the fragrant rosemary bush.

This is the not so, "Feeling the Garden of Paradise Party Walk", back into the house trying to go undetected.

(On a side note, several days ago, I slinked in with sunglasses and hurriedly rushed to the bathroom for a quick mouth swish, only to realize that I'd rinsed my mouth with Mr. Clean I'd left on the counter where I usually keep the Crest Total Care.)

How ironic since I just did the Dirty Girl Meets Mr. Clean Blog a few weeks ago.

OMGosh!!
I know, I know.
Trying to remain on the Down Low, only makes me feel Low Down!!!


It is a lame and foolish attempt on my part and also Adam & Eve's to try and remain hidden.
How silly to think we can actually hide our disobedience from the creator of the universe?


I blame no one but myself. 
I'm not pointing fingers and saying, well, so and so...who is also pointing and saying, well, so and so...
I'm owning it these days.

And I know, that he knows, that I know, that he knows, where I'm really hiding.
I've always wondered why he even bothered to ask where they were, being omniscient and all.


He knew where they were...so why ask?

I read an interesting take on this from Charles Spurgeon who pointed out something I'd never thought of.


After their iniquity, Adam and Eve did not go running around the garden shouting out to the Lord, "Hey, God!!! Heeeerrrreeee weeee aaaarrrrre!! We totally screwed up, did exactly what you told us NOT do, and we want to talk to you about it! Where are YOU?"

No. It didn't go down like that at all.
God went after them.
Just like a lost sheep will not find it's way back into the fold on its' own, he must be found by the Shepherd.

Spurgeon writes, "The first cry is the voice of Grace, “Sinner where are you?” God comes to man; man seeks not his God. Despite all the Doctrines which proud free will has manufactured, there has never been found from Adam’s day until now a single instance in which the sinner first sought his God! God must first seek him."


Wow! 
And thank God we have an awareness of our sin, and that in itself is a gift, of Grace.


While, "Fools make fun of guilt, the godly acknowledge it and seek reconciliation." Proverbs 14:9 


So are we hiding....or are we seeking?
If you're like me...you sometimes take turns doing both.


"Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need." Luke 12:31
I could use some "everything." 

"Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take"...Proverbs 3:6 
I could use some "direction."

"For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost." Luke 19:10

I'm not really lost.
I know where I'm at, and I'm also grateful that I'm not where I was.

Sometimes I still try and hide in the same spot.
Waiting for him to come find me.
When he gets to 10.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi....

He doesn't even need to try and peek!!!
He already knows where I am.

And yells, "Found ya!" :D