We're Moving!!! .... AGAIN!

but no worries... we're moving EXACTLY one house to the left. :) for those with our address change the 163 to 175, BUT we're not moved yet! SOON!


Stayed tuned for further updates....

Payback ... AKA Consequences

Oh I hurt. I hurt in many, many ways, in many, many places.

The Right Kind of Proud

Proud is a word that is thrown around a lot these days. I don't always agree with the uses, and I was raised not to show it. My mom had a misguided sense of humility. She's not alone, but that's not what I want to discuss right now. I'm going to enjoy a moment of pure pride.

18 months ago ...I didn't like myself, and I convinced myself that if I was just thin again everything would be better. So I joined a gym and got with the trainer there. He's a patient man, but will NOT accept "I can't do that" as an answer. It's exactly what I needed. I started SLOW. I couldn't do much. 25 pushups sounded like Mt Everest. Mike didn't care, he just helped me find what strength I did have and just a little I didn't know I had.

12 months ago ...I didn't like that I wasn't losing weight at the gym and I got discouraged, but Mike wouldn't accept that. He quietly waited for me to come back to my senses. I was starting to be able to do pushups, crunches, lift weights. Mike pushed me toward 50 pushups in the course of a workout. Even a month ago, I struggled terribly to get 100 push ups. They were even broken up in many, many sets. So today when Mike said "500 pushups, 500 squats." I caught myself thinking THERE IS NO WAY. I *might* get to 100. There is no way I'll get 500.

I got 500! Proud of me?

Bullying...

As an elementary student, I was the object of a young man's anger and frustration. I was the object of a bully. I was teased and tormented emotionally for 6 years. I lived my life scared of what would come next. Even though he never touched me physically, it was still bullying. I tried talking to teachers who would equally try to manage the situation. He would only get worse the more he would get into trouble. He would find sneaky little ways to get around teachers and administration. I got so desperate that I finally sought out the school counselor. My plea? Please help me learn to cope. I can't change him. I can't change what's happening. Help ME. The counselor called the bully into my session and proceeded to interrogate him right in front of me. My trust was broken. My spirit was broken, and I was more of a target than I had ever been. Thankfully, I have come a LONG way since then. THANKFULLY, education has come a LONG way since then. I do not ever take my experience for granted and continually teach my boys about respecting others and their feelings. Please talk to your children.

Learning Curve

I know it sounds simple. I'm a pastor's wife. It's SO not simple. I feel like I'm on a major learning curve.... maybe it should be a LEANING curve, but I'm just not altogether with it yet. I guess that's not completely uncommon....

I'll let you know if I ever catch on.

It's 1-1-11

Stayed up til midnight...

Heard wailing children at 3:30am because they had "missed it all" despite our best efforts to wake them...

Was already awake when the alarm went off at 7am...

So the extent of my musing on this very binary day is.... hey... look... it's 1-1-11.

Thoughts on the Thanksgiving Holiday

I remember as a child having everyone come to our home for Thanksgiving dinner. For as long as I can remember my mother has been hosting that meal promptly at 1pm. Both sets of grandparents would come, aunts, uncles, my sister, brother and myself. It eventually grew to include siblings-in-law, nephews and a niece. Some years there in South Central PA it would be snowing, some years we'd eat with the doors open because my brother was too hot. The weather seemed to be the only detail Mom couldn't control.

I can remember most of the food. Very little would change from year to year. There was turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, baked corn, green bean casserole (with onion rings on top. YUCK!), baked oyster casserole, cranberry salad, among a few varied things. My sister Cindy was always in charge of the green bean casserole when I was little. We'd banter back and forth about those yucky onion rings (I like them now) and eventually we'd compromise and there would be one corner with no onions just for me. My grandfather would bring the oyster casserole which was another yuck for me, but mom wouldn't make me eat it because she didn't like it either. My job as the youngest was to arrange the olives and pickles for the appetizer plate. My sister and I would spend the hour leading up to the meal taking turns snitching dill pickles off the tray. If either of us were to get caught, she'd yell "It's an APPETIZER plate, Mom!" and we'd all laugh. Some years if Mom was particularly busy she might not even notice until the tray passed by her at the meal and the dill pickles would be gone.

After dinner my brother would meet his friends for a friendly game of football. Tommy, Mike, Mike (yeah another one), Kurt, Butch and a few others would meet at Mike McCleary's house and that "friendly" game would sometimes land one of them in the ER for X-rays or stitches. Occasionally Cindy would take me up to watch. It was cold sitting on the ground watching them, but it was SO MUCH FUN! No one could tackle Mike but Tommy and he wasn't always successful. By the time we'd get home one or both of my grandfathers would be asleep on the couch, my dad and uncle, too, and my aunt would be headed home with a migraine at the mere mention of cleaning up.

I remember sitting in the kitchen with the women listening to Mom entertain her mom and mother-in-law while hand washing all the dishes from lunch. Then she would sit down and take all the turkey meat off the bones for meals later in the week. Years passed and my grandfathers did too, and we still had the meal but without the oyster casserole. Oh, Dad tried to make it a time or two until he learned that's what was causing his gout flare-ups each week after Thanksgiving. The kids grew up ... which was funny ... we just commented last year at how peaceful Thanksgiving dinner had become now that no one had a demanding toddler in a high chair. Tommy's friends all have kids and have scattered so there's no football game anymore. Grandma got Alzheimer's and so we sit and eat with her and hope that somewhere in there is a glimmer of memory as to who we all are. Now, as I prepare to trek home for this meal once again, I do so knowing my sister won't be there to steal the pickles with me or make green bean casserole without onion rings, but I'm thankful. I'm thankful that I had a sister who loved me enough to leave the nasty onion rings off my dinner, thankful my sister would want to spend time with me sitting on the cold ground cheering for Mike (LOL yeah, I know I should have cheered for my brother) thankful for the laughter we shared that last morning on the phone, and thankful for God's divine providence that I was exactly where I needed to be at the exact moment I needed to be there. It may be a little different, but I think I have the Thanksgiving sentiment locked in this year. I plan on enjoying every little detail locking it away for the future.