Happy Fun Girl: What Moves You?

Happy Fun Girl: What Moves You?: By the time I was a senior graduating from high school, we lived in about 15 different houses. Each move, my mom would pack and unpack...

What Moves You?

By the time I was a senior graduating from high school, we lived in about 15 different houses.
Each move, my mom would pack and unpack and make us feel like we were finally home.

She'd bake cookies and make costumes and plant gardens and do all the wonderful 'mom' things that make a house feel like a home.

But when you're renting, there is always a little bit of uncertainty and unsettledness.

Maybe the owners will decide to sell, move back in, or maybe rent it to their cousin's family.

If I were techy, I'd post the video clip from Meet the Parents where Ben Stiller goes over to the ex-fiance's tricked out house and standing in his gorgeous kitchen Owen Wilson asks, "Are you a homeowner Greg?"
And Greg stutters, "I-I-I rent..."
I'd put a caption on it that says, "Don't let this happen to you!"

But it's happened to me.
And many of us.
I am a realtor who rents.

It's ironic that as much as I am not really a person who is all about social status and having stuff, when people ask where I live, I feel like I have to go into a dissertation of how I ended up in an apartment.
And then I get the holy spirit, "Gotcha." :)
There's that pride again.

I have to remember that my identity is in not in the fact that I have a #11303 behind my address, my identity is in Christ.

And there are sometimes very good reasons of course that people rent.
I just always wanted to own my own home and recently moved from one that I loved.
Currently I am in "all things will work for good for those who love God" mode.

Always, always, I've loved homes and yearned for a place to call my own.

I spent my earliest years playing with my yellow roofed Fisher Price house and I actually played Barbies until I was in high school.

I even hand made rolls of paper that I bound together with the rubber bands from my braces so that I could have a realistic looking newspaper sitting at the front door of my Barbie Dream House.

While other girls dreamed their way through bridal magazines, I scoured the pages of Better Homes and Gardens.

I imagined mine a craftsman style bungalow type.
Super homey.


A place where lunches and backpacks sat on the bench near the back door and the welcoming smell of fresh baked cookies wafted through the air when the kids got home from school.

A place where little hands made crafts and rolled play dough on the counters while I prepared and sometimes burned dinner.

I wanted a front porch where we could all sit together and watch the sun rise or set, and a swing in back overlooking the pool where I would one day sit with my grandchildren and read books like "Goodnight Moon," and "The Giving Tree."

My home didn't always have Better Homes moments, but there were some days there that seemed like the very best.

Home is where you go when the rest of the world just gets to be too much and you just want to be...
At peace...with the people who really love you, faults and all.

There is nothing so wonderful as a crackling fire, a good read and a super snuggly dog on your lap.
Nothing as fabulous as having a gazillion screaming girls gathered around the dining table ready to blow out candles....again.
The same girls you have been watching grow up since they were in kindergarten.

And the smiling face of a newborn baby granddaughter, even in an apartment.
These are the things that move me.

Making a move is not always easy.
Packing and unpacking boxes, or baggage, is hardly ever fun.

But we just have to keep moving forward.
Eventually, we will be home.

What moves you?
Maybe I can help.
RE/MAX

Happy Fun Girl: Bless my mess, Oh Lord I pray...

Happy Fun Girl: Bless my mess, Oh Lord I pray...: This morning I woke up cleaning one mess after another. Baby Dog pooped on the floor in the middle of the night and the holy spirit i...

Bless my mess, Oh Lord I pray...

This morning I woke up cleaning one mess after another.

Baby Dog pooped on the floor in the middle of the night and the holy spirit instructed me to clean up my verbal vomit.

I'm sorry.
And I sincerely apologize.
I crossed the line and went too far and typed angry..ish.

Many situations have presented themselves lately and I don't know any other way to explain it but to say that I personally feel like I've been double crossed.

And lied to.
Repeatedly.
And it's made me feel a little angry.

Again.....I should heed Andy's lesson.... nobody cares how I feel.
They care how I act, so, I apologize to the 34 people that read my post yesterday.

And Andy Andrews, if you would like to welcome me into your home and put me in a time out...I will gladly pack my bags and come hang with you, Polly and the boys so I can learn how to act right.

Or maybe just take us all fishing.

I should have taken it all straight to God, but I took it to my keyboard.
Not the best idea.

"What Lord? What?" I say upon waking....
His spirit has been heavy on me since yesterday.

"1st Colossians 3," he says.

So I look.
I can't even find 1st Colossions 3.
"First, Colossians 3," he whispers again.
Oh.
I sense some exasperation in his voice.

Then I found it.
Oh.
Gulp.

I'm sorry.

"Next, Romans 8."


I was still feeling pretty bad for my behavior and not really realizing which verse I was heading to next, until I got there and read, "So now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus......

And the rest of that chapter.

Thank you Lord.
For the word, and the beautiful sunrise this morning.

I'm going to take the dogs out now and try not to step in any more poop.

Happy Fun Girl: Good Grief....

Happy Fun Girl: Good Grief....: Enough is enough already. Before I say anything, I should throw in my hypocrite disclaimer. I'm only human. Even though I'm nearly si...

Good Grief....

Enough is enough already.
Before I say anything, I should throw in my hypocrite disclaimer.
I'm only human.
Even though I'm nearly six feet tall, I fall short.
And often.
I do the the things I don't want to do and don't do the things I want to do.

Like form a Love Train.
I really, really, really want to form a Love Train.
I'm talking a bona fide, coast to coast, world wide, hand in hand, this land is my land, this land is your land.....
Love Train.
One Tribe y'all.

Often times we are too busy fighting, arguing and yelling at everyone who doesn't believe the same as we do.
In true Jerry Springer fashion I did this myself just last week.
How do you repent when you barely remember what you did?
I sleep cussed.

I walked the walk...alright......
Right into the living room wearing my underwear and tank top, verbally unleashing on my two loud laughing daughters.

This Mommie Dearest moment only caused them to laugh even louder.
We put the "Fun" in dysfunctional, for sure.
I'm sorry Focus on the Family.
I try. And I admit, it was not one of my better moments.

Sometimes, in my selfishness and overall general lack of self control, I lose focus.
And cross the line.
I miss the line.
Even with my Dollar General readers on, the line just keeps getting blurrier and blurrier.

Right and wrong.
Black and white.
Your side, my side.
Right side, left side.

Side by side. Hand in hand. That's how I'd prefer to walk the walk.

Maybe I'm not the only one who has monumental meltdowns, but I truly am tired of all the fighting.
In the words of Robert Duvall in, "The Apostle,"....."Give me, give me, give me Peace Lord!"

I hear my daughter mimic me. "I thought you always say, "anything worth having, is worth fighting for."
Okay, well that's different.

I don't watch the news, rarely read the paper or even barely glance at my once addicted, Facebook newsfeed anymore because everyone is yelling.

We take tragic news stories like Sandy Hook and instead of grieving with families over loss, we start a political debate about gun control.

My heart goes out to them all by the way.
I can't even begin to fathom that kind of loss.
But I believe Good can be found in Grief.
If we're looking for it.

Let's hook up, come together and cross the lines with love.

Just before Christmas I read that some group was protesting a Charlie Brown Christmas play at a school. Charlie Brown!
Good grief!
Are you kidding me? Is this for real?
If you don't like it, don't go.

I want to live in a world where we can say, "Merry Christmas," and I don't have to worry about getting fired.
You can tell me Happy Hanakah if you like and I won't be offended.
I don't even know how to spell it and I hope you're not offended by that.

I believe in God.
I believe in Jesus Christ.
You don't have to, but I'd really, really like for you to check it out.

We are blessed to live in a country with freedoms, but for some reason, I'm feeling less free to be me every day.
And maybe that's the point.
It's not about you or me.

What if it's about Him?
Uh-oh. I just went and got all religious fanatic! :)

The line is too blurry.
Johnny Cash couldn't walk a line this crooked.

It's gotten too over the top ridiculous.

I've recently found out that I'm apparently not allowed to let a maintenance man in the dressing room while customers are in back changing clothes. (Which sounds like common sense to me.)
But......if a man who is a "customer" comes in wearing a sparkly red tunic because he prefers to dress like a woman, then yes, in that case, I must provide him a fitting room where the women are dressing. 

Are you kidding me?
It's a women's clothing store!
Seriously!! I don't get it.

(This is the part where I should probably also provide a disclaimer that says this is only my opinion and does not in any way reflect the viewpoints of anyone I work for, have ever worked for, talked to, breathed on, looked at or even smiled in the direction of.)

Is there no line, or article of clothing, that cannot be crossed? :)
I'm kidding.
And I'm just wondering because it's gotten very confusing.

I try and love all people at all times.
Let your freak flag fly high as you like, but come on...isn't there a better place for that?
Whatever happened to majority rules?

In grade school, if it started snowing during recess, the teacher would ask, "By a show of hands who would like to go outside and play?" "Very well. And who would like to stay in?"

We either played out or stayed in, depending on how many arms were raised for each question.
And though there might have been a few..."awww"'s, it ended there.
No one went on and on about why it wasn't fair.

Here's another thing I remember......
We all raised our hand.
No one, never, NOT voted.
And noone complained because we knew the rules.

Now we are grown but it's not really that way any more.
It's become, "do it my way" or someone is going to throw a big fit, file a law suit, and cost us all many sleepless nights and a lot of wasted time and money.

Entire companies are changing policies to accommodate the wishes and feelings of a few.

Andy Andrews has a must read blog titled, "Controlling the Cookie Flow," that talks a little about this. If you read anything this week, read that...it's awesome and makes perfect sense.

Especially in a world where not much seems to.
'Cause at the end of the day he says, "No one really cares how you feel, they care how you act."

Can I see a show of hands for loving people even when we disagree?
Get on board.
Good grief.

Happy Fun Girl: I'll Never Be Your Beast of Burden....

Happy Fun Girl: I'll Never Be Your Beast of Burden....: Thank God the New Year is here. I couldn't stand one more minute of 2012. It's not very uplifting to say, but there were many days in ...

I'll Never Be Your Beast of Burden....

Thank God the New Year is here.
I couldn't stand one more minute of 2012.
It's not very uplifting to say, but there were many days in there where I was hoping the Mayans were right.
I woke up greatly disappointed on December 22.

Some days had been so utterly filled with an apparent, never ending feeling of hopelessness that I could barely function enough to perform even minor household duties.

Like the laundry.
Forgive me for unloading, but I had become the mom who would have to rewash the clothes two or three times just to get the sour smell out because I left them in there too long.
And much like the laundry, I'd felt like I'd been on a repeat spin cycle, only to end up... washed up and smelly at the bottom of the tub.

I also have been throwing in a wet towel to get the wrinkles out of clothes I refused to deal with the first time they were done.

I have been asking God to restore me...and help me with my unbelief as Natalie and I continue to live out of our comfort zone, starting all over again in the city where so much is unfamiliar.....and new.

My safety net is gone.

Last year I thought for sure would be a break through year for me. For Us.

2011 was my break down year, so I just assumed, 2012 would be the break through with my children's book coming out and all.

But...It wasn't.

And now I've had enough.
It's time to get over it and move on toward the vision God has given me for our lives whether it looks like I'm making progress or not.

Behold something new...something borrowed...something blue.

Now the new baby and the new year are here and by taking baby steps with God's help, I'm getting off the delicate cycle where I burst out crying like a baby every five minutes for no apparent reason....

Maybe not every five minutes, but I'm pretty sure it's probably more than baby Saydee.

Eyes on Jesus.
Eyes on Jesus.
The plans He has will come to pass.

Right now, I have a 3 week old miracle asleep on a chair and 3 loads of laundry piled on my bed.
Goodnight Moon is in the diaper bag.
I don't think she can even really see yet.
But I'm going to read it to her anyway.

I've had other children's story ideas running through my head lately and maybe because I love rhyming so much, the Llama books keep creeping in.

"Is Your Mama a LLama?" now wait, what is this?
 OK. Probably not..... but her grandma sure is!!!

A llama is a South American Beast of Burden.

They are pack animals, meant for carrying very heavy loads.
And it occurs to me....
I have so been a problem packing, baggage carrying Beast of Burden for way too long.
And the load is too heavy.

This is not the good news gospel I signed up for.
I am taking the laundry basket back to the Cleaners.

My heart's desire is to drop off every dirty, stinking load I have been carrying...
I am trusting Him more and more every day to remove the stains I can't seem to get out no matter how hard I scrub.

It's simply too much to carry anymore.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matthew 11.
 
God I need light.

I am done.
In 2013, it would seem, I am dropping the load faster than a backpack after school at the start of summer.
There is a long list of things for me to worry about right now and I simply cannot.
What good is an hour of worrying?

I cannot be anxious for anything, but continuing with thanksgiving for the many blessings I do have.
I must trust that God is who He says He is.
That He will work things out for good.

I am holding on to the promises that he will turn ashes into beauty and restore the years that the locusts have eaten.

Casting my cares on him, cause he cares for me....
I keep hearing the whisper, "I've got this....take a load off Annie"....


and....and....and....
Just put the load right on me.

And dear God, please don't leave me hung out to dry....:)