God’s Little Reminders

Every once in a while, God sends me a little reminder.  He just did it again.

The whole family is home after being apart the whole day.  All of a sudden, I take a nose dive:

-Questions are non-stop, and I do mean NON-STOP.
-Hubby comes home and the roof blows off the house.
-Dinner can’t be made cuz I forgot to take the chops out of the freezer (after someone put them in there before I had a chance to tell them not to)
-There is stuff evvvv-errrrrr-eeeeee-where.

Hubby tries his best to defuse the situation by announcing he needs a hug.  I bark back that I don’t have one to give.  Then it happens.  God’s little reminder.  I go sit down in my chair, followed shortly by a little messenger about 4 feet tall.  She hands me a small dry-erase board on which she has written:

“Why can’t you be happy?  I want a hug, Daddy wants a hug. Why?  Come on!  Be happy!”

Then, a couple minutes later she returns with a new message, complete with musical notes drawn in, “put a little love in your heart”….How does she know that song?  How?

The message is clear.  I need a little love in my heart…I haven’t gone to Him today to fill me so that I can pour it all out on them.  I need a little love in my heart.  A message from God from one of His most beautiful messengers.

By George, I think I’ve got it!!

I’m so lame sometimes!!  I sit here in my house thinking how I wish I could get out of the house for a while.  Then I read Tam’s adventure.  And I thought…DUH!!  Just get in the car and go, dim-wit!!

So, that being said, I’m going to make it a point to get out once or twice a week and go somewhere to write.  We don’t have any cool little coffee shops around here…I’d be lucky to find a Starbucks or Panara’s but that will work!

Now I’m excited for next week.  I’ve got appointments on Tuesday and Thursday, and I’m going to use the time in the morning before those appointments to go and stimulate my brain and start writing again.

Thanks, Tam!  I don’t know why it took me so long to figure this out but your adventure really “stung” me!!

What did the farmer say to his Valentine?

I have no idea.  I just thought it would make a good title for this post.

I think there is something wrong with me.  We went to a dairy farm today and watched as cows were milked.  We bought milk, and cream (I actually made butter!). But when it came to drinking the milk…I couldn’t do it.  I told my husband that after seeing the process I just couldn’t drink it.  He looked at me and said “It’s not like you didn’t know the process already!”

I had to dump the rest of my milk in the sink. I’m starting to think I understand why people become vegan…

So what I want to know is, does anyone else ever suffer from this–you see the “process” of how something you eat is made and then can’t eat it?

I’m Sorry

I agreed to join a group of bloggers in being accountable for setting and reaching creative goals for 2009.  I was very excited about this, since I have some writing ideas bouncing around in my head that I have as of yet not been able to get into words.  I’ve failed.

Maybe I’m not ready for this.  Maybe this isn’t my time.

Am I missing something?

I’m sitting here with the TV on and randomly stopped on the Bio channel.  I’m watching the bio of  Chris Farley, and as I’m watching, I’m thinking, this guy isn’t funny at all…he’s just obnoxious.  And always sweaty.  Ewww.

Seriously.  I don’t find him funny in the least.  And with the narrative, I’m actually thinking, this poor guy is pathetic.  He was alone.  He was addicted.  His entire life was spent trying to make people like him because of his own insecurity.  They keep mentioning how successful he was because so many people liked him.  But did they?  It just seems like so many were laughing AT him, feeding the insecurity.

During his youth  he prayed.  A lot.  He would constantly return to confess and repent….but he never did.  Without that relationship with Jesus, he simply went around and around and around until he finally gave up and succumbed to his stardom, alcohol, drugs, and eventually his death.  He died alone.  Alone.

They say he was gifted.  I think he was lonely and missing God.  Yes, he went to church.  Yes, he prayed.  Maybe he did all the right things.  But he was missing the point.  I often think that this is true of many of the same type of comedic actors; Jack Black, John Belushi, David Spade.  You know the type…the class clown.

What am I missing?   What is it that everyone else sees in these guys that I don’t?

Hadn’t thought of this…

Yesterday afternoon, I took Mary and her friend to the local pizza shop for lunch.  It’s a sports themed type of place, and as such, there is a large screen TV that always has some sports game on.  Yesterday it was basketball.

At some point, a commercial came on and a black man dressed up in a suit stepped up to a podium.  Mary said “Hey look, mom, it’s Barack Obama.”  I glanced over at the TV to see an athlete, large as life, complete with large karat diamond stud earings on the screen.

Great, I thought.  My daughter now thinks that every clean shaven black man in a suit is Barack Obama. Of course I just casually told her that it wasn’t President Obama.

But as I thought about it, I began to wonder; is this a good thing or a bad thing?

What do you think?

Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow…

Of the many blessings I’ve been given in the past few years, none can compare to the magnificence of His love.  I see it all around me.  I feel it.  I breathe it, I taste it.  His great love and mercy has molded me into something that I never thought possible.  The change is not complete, and I dare to say that it never will be, not in this lifetime anyway.

The fruit of that blessing of love is in the form of a little girl.  How can I not, each and every day, know the love He has for me when I look into this face: