I am goofy!

In addition to being paralyzed by large tasks, I am mortified to no end - broken, when I send out something and immediately know it contains a mistake. The poem I referenced in my last post is correctly titled "Mother to Son" by Langston Hughes.

And I originally misspelled disturbing. Wow, that's disturbing.

Forgive me?


Didn't want either of us to leave sleep over that...

Week in Review (a lil' in advance)

Okay, I am one who is paralyzed by daunting tasks. When a project grows to mammoth proportions I am not one skilled in breaking it into small steps. I hide. I nap. I stress. I take a hot bath. I eat very decadent things in monster servings!

I am not one who eats an elephant one bite at a time. I curl up over the HVAC vent on the floor with a blanket trapping all of the warmness around me and drift off to elephant-free places. And I will do that until the elephant is standing over me, threatening to snuff me out in one gulp. And it is only then that I can unhinge my jaws enough to take him down all at once.

If I do not have time to clean my whole house, I tend to clean nothing. If I don't have thirty minutes to call someone, I won't call at all. And you guessed it, if I don't have an hour to blog, then I won't blog at all. So that's where I've been. So prepare yourself as I unhinge and devour a week of blogging in one post:

Monday: Our fav-o-right plumber paid us a call to check on a leak in our guest bath. We happened to be eating dinner as he was finishing, and he stepped into the kitchen to announce, "Well, I found the problem; it is the seal."

Campbell chews on that with her green beans. Then she turns to me and asked, "How did a seal get in here?" :-)

Tuesday: I ran at the gym and listened to a great sermon. Totally think podcasts are better for longer workouts than music. They totally take your mind to a different place, so you're not so focused on how long you've been going. And in the end, you walk away having gotten a spiritual and physical workout. Can't beat that for efficiency! And I definitely recommend this sermon by Matthew Barnett from the Dream Center in LA. It is serious stuff, but there was one part where I started laughing so hard that I had to stop the machine I was on, and just crack up. I've never done that before (it was the prayer he memorized in Bible college). Check it out!

Wednesday: I just kinda vacantly pondered why I am so drawn to tragic works of art. The Bell Jar. Tess of the d'Urbervilles. Their Eyes Were Watching God. Love Story (1970 movie). "Life for Me Ain't Been No Crystal Stair." I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. And anything by Nicholas Sparks, for Pete's sake! I think it is a testament to an artist's craft if he can make me cry. I think it is so difficult to capture the depth of pain in a song or a poem or a movie. Cheaply done, it can come off seeming quite hokey. Anybody else out there a connoisseur of tragedy? I found this facet of my interests a little disturbing as I am generally a joyful person, I think.

Thursday: Tonight was Trick-or-Treat for my mom. Apparently, in my own confusion, I mentioned to her about coming over to trick-or-treat on Thursday (she always goes with us and wears a costume too - yes, she is the bomb!). She took off the afternoon to get her costume ready and drove over for T-o-T. She just trusted that I knew what I was talking about - big mistake. I felt so so so so so crummy! Like she said in her good-natured Grammy way, it was Trick-or-Treat; the trick was just on her :-( I am so scattered...

Friday: I love costumes!!! Dance costumes. Halloween costumes. Themed-party costumes. Love 'em. What are you and/or your lil' ones dressing up as this year? If you're not dressing up, what would your costume be if you were? Really considering a New Year's Eve costume party...

Saturday: Checkin' out this and this! Let's go nuts!

Sunday: You know where to find me. McNair Science Building @ FMU @ 10:30! NewSpring Florence gathering together once again...

Save the Dates

We are in the "preview season" of NewSpring Florence. So as we move toward our public launch in January we will worship together on the following dates:

November 2, 9, 23

December 7, 21

Come join us at 10:30; we're counting down the hours...

I was banana pudding...

Enough about my nose already. I am posting my October SHE article; this is the annual breast cancer Survivors issue.

It was prom night in Sumter, and the neighbor girl was preparing for her grand departure. Her dress fit perfectly; her nails were precisely polished, and she smiled delicately in the photos snapped by her parents. My mom, Aunt Shelby, and Grandma peered with interest from their darkened bedroom window. It was dusk as the couple paraded to the car, so the sneaky trio had a clear view of the fanfare. Their covert observation was proceeding as planned. That is, until devilment got the better of my mother. She knew full well that the curtain in their room easily dismounted and often fell unprovoked. My mom yelled the neighbor’s name as her chivalrous date was opening the car door. My mom and aunt hit the deck, flipped the light switch, dislodged the curtain in all the commotion, and left Grandma standing in the naked window, completely illuminated and exposed by the bright overhead light, as the neighbor looked to see who had called her name. “Becky would get me coming and going,” she would chuckle as she often recounted their misadventures.

After the prom night debacle she would usually, in her mock exasperation – fighting the urge to just get plum tickled – tell about how my mom would narrate scary stories to her five younger siblings. My mom would speak in a whispered tone and embellish her tale with spooky details as she concocted one scary story after the next. My Grandma would laugh and confess that Momma’s stories scared her as much as they did her children.

Grandma and PaPa were married fifty-five years and parented six children: four daughters and two sons (Whew!). She was most complete when surrounded by her children, and she would often say that it took all of them to make her happy. She was always petite but possessed a strength that I still cannot wrap my brain around. And her house was always a place where people gathered; I mean people besides her family. There were always grandchildren running to and fro, sons and daughters bickering, people bringing or retrieving cars my PaPa repaired, childhood friends stopping in, extended family members paying a visit, sometimes unusual pets hanging out in the back yard (a pig, a horse, and ducks), but always a dog named Tiny with nails tapping across the floor as he/she scampered through the house (the name was always passed down to his/her successor). The smell of steak and gravy invited whoever turned the door knob on the back door, so there was always a house full at eating time. Kids parked it on the floor, and the adults packed out the living room and kitchen for Sunday lunch. Laughter and comfort food were always on the menu. Grandma had a specialty (or two or three) for each family member, so there was a special scoop of lovin’ on Sunday if Grandma fixed your favorite. I was banana pudding.

She was in the restaurant business for many years; in fact, at one time she was part-owner of the now vacant Mama’s Kitchen on Lafayette Street in Sumter. Her gracious hospitality made her the star of that place. Somehow she made this amazing connection between feeding someone’s hunger and feeding someone’s heart. Her customers left with a satisfaction that comes from more than a full stomach. She knew their stories, how they liked their coffee or their eggs, and she loved them. In fact, after Thanksgiving in 1984 a regular commented to her, “Winnie Mae, I didn’t have Thanksgiving dinner this year since Mama’s Kitchen wasn’t open.” Well, that would not do. She announced to her children that she could not enjoy Christmas at home with her family, knowing that others were alone and hungry. So we all, even me at eleven years-old, suited up and served 300 free meals on Christmas Day that year, and she also organized and delivered 66 fruit baskets to individuals who were homebound.

Later in life, she and PaPa met up with the One and Only, and He took it all to a new level. She began to love people in His Name. That lady had the most audacious faith I have ever seen. I have witnessed her write a tithe check when she absolutely did not know whether they had enough money to pay their bills or buy their medicine. She had a heart for underdogs and people who were hurting, and she would fervently pray for innumerable people and their situations on a daily basis. She called me the morning of the Ocean Isle beach house fire last October, so we could pray together for all the families touched by tragedy. She encouraged through cards she mailed, and she was a student of His Word. She could not get enough of Him. She was actually ordained as a minister in her church, and it was a joy to hear her speak before the congregation she loved. What a blessing to have witnessed her passion and devotion! My last visit with her I sat at the foot of her recliner and talked with her as my three year-old sang “Jesus Loves Me” in the background. I welled up with tears even then, realizing the beauty of the moment. I, however, did not realize it would be my last.

To many people she was Winnie Mae, but to me she was Grandma Springs. And since I began writing for She, I have been anticipating the opportunity to write about her for the October issue. She was a five-year breast cancer survivor battling emphysema. Rather unexpectedly, she received complete healing at the hands of her Father on August 30, 2008, just a few short weeks ago. She lived large and her absence has left a hole the size of the Grand Canyon. I will think of her and only seconds later remember that she is not just a phone call away. I can still hear her voice speaking common phrases that she would say – like how she referred to PaPa as Sug (short for Sugar). I awoke this past Saturday morning from the sweetest dream where I laughed with her again. This is mourning with hope.

We cannot help but grieve our own loss, but we also cannot help celebrating her life. Her laughter was infectious. Her love was deep and broad. Her influence was far-reaching. So as her family we can know that “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:31). We can praise Him for her freedom to run if she takes a notion to. Ours is a mourning with hope. We praise Him. We celebrate her.

More on Thread the Pore

I love it when you ask questions!!!!

And I am happy to be the source for all of your nose piercing info. So here's the skinny...

I have to be the biggest goofball to roll up into Heat Street for a piercing. It was about 10:45 am, and there were no other customers there. I guess the preschool hours are not a hot piercing time :-) Lloyd, the owner - we use to be in the same Sunday School class, and another guy were kicked back watching TV when I arrived. So, my lil' nerdy self begins to ask a lot of questions. You know, I really just wanted to talk about it to get warmed up to the whole idea - you know like an episode of LA Ink or something. But I don't think piercing dudes are all that into talk, so I found myself in the surgical chair much quicker than I expected. Did you hear me? There's a little surgical room that looks very much like a doctor's exam room.

During the research phase of this decision, I grilled two other people with nose piercings and discovered that a piercing gun is not used for cartilage piercing. Yes, that was very bad news. I really liked the efficiency of a gun - pierced in one second flat. No piercing guns at Heat Street, no sir-ee. I did not witness any of this, but Lloyd explained that he would stick a piercing needle through my nostril (no local anesthetic, thank you very much) and it would be pulled out through the bottom of my nose. Somehow the nose stud (or whatever you call the thing) was attached to the needle and fed through after the needle. That sounds awful to me, but it wasn't that bad at all. Thread the pore (the needle part) took only one or two seconds. Wrangling the stud into place was a little uncomfortable and was somewhat akin to having a tooth pulled but much quicker. The whole process took maybe a minute or two.

I was very curious about what would actually be inside my nose too. I knew there couldn't be a back to hold it in place, and there isn't. Mine is curved like the silver stud below:

I think it's actually called a nose screw. And I don't have a clue about how one goes about removing the blasted thing. Some twisting and finagling to be sure...

I think all of the swelling has gone down today because it's very wiggly, and I'm not liking that so much!

I'm not feelin' this is a long-term gig, but it's an interesting experiment/experience nonetheless...

Behind the Piercing

Okay, I really am pierced (it's a little itchy today). And there is no noble reasoning behind it. It doesn't symbolize or represent anything, and it's not a manifestation of some internal darkness. It really just boils down to the fact that I really became intrigued with having a nose piercing about four months ago, and if you've been reading here a while, you've heard me mention it a couple of times. You also may have heard me express some regrets about things I didn't do when I had the opportunity. It became quite clear that this was going to be added to that list if I didn't give it a whirl, so I did.

I didn't immediately love it, but I am growing to like it more and more. I really don't like the whole discovery process where people will see it for the first time; it honestly makes me quite anxious. I emailed Carson's teacher (because I volunteer in their classroom) and told one of her friend's mom on the phone because I just wanted them to know in advance of seeing it for the first time (that sounds so silly but I felt much better after that).

Chris and I have actually talked extensively about getting the piercing for months. I did it with his complete blessing. We had agreed that I would wait until after the business trip to Virginia - which made Monday the day. I was chickening out, and Chris called three times to see if I had gotten it done yet. He was not lettin' me off the hook, and I'm glad he didn't. He digs it - calling it cute, cool, and sexy (depending on his mood and mine).

I absolutely in no way regret doing it!

Carson is not a fan, but it's not a big deal to her. She gives it a thumbs down, she says. Campbell says she is going to get her nose pierced when she is big like me. She has touched it and looked inside my nose to thoroughly check it out. I talked about it with both of them before doing it, but I didn't tell them when the deed would be done. When Carson disapproved, I seriously considered forgetting the whole thing out of respect for her opinion. Then I decided there might be a better lesson at hand; as long as I am not disobeying Scripture or the leadership of the Holy Spirit and as long as I am not hurting anyone - I should not let the opinions of others dictate my choices. After all, I am praying that she (and her sister) will be socially courageous when it comes to being different in Jesus' name.

It bears repeating that there was no noble reasoning behind the needle (that went slam through my nostril), but it has brought me face to face with my own desire for social acceptance. I don't like feeling like people are having conversations about me behind my back, but I do like knowing that I went for it even though it would be an unpopular choice in some circles (thank you to those who left encouraging comments!). I like knowing that I'm not going to have to add another item to my regret list. I'm discovering that I needed my own shot of social courage... So while this is honestly a little humbling, it's causing some neat introspection.

I really did it...

I - a totally conservative, 35 year-old mom - am the proud owner of a pierced nose!

O Happy Day!

189 people in attendance for our first NewSpring Florence service!

1 more person who will call heaven home!

One Big, Glorious God who did it all!

It was all I hoped it would be and way more!

Thank you for your prayers.

The God of Caterpillars

I last taught Sunday School on September 10, 2006. It was probably the last time I will teach SS in my whole life. It was a day when hundreds of people would leave that church, never to return. We all knew it was our last, and I was scheduled to teach on sex. I did not. I taught about caterpillars instead. And about how God specializes in taking things that are messy and dirty and ugly and turning them into beauty.

I played this song by the Newsboys:

You are the author of knowledge

You can redeem what's been done

You hold the present and all that's to come

Until your everlasting kingdom

Lord, I don't know where all this is going

Or how it all works out

Lead me to peace that is past understanding

A peace beyond all doubt

You are the God of tomorrow

Turning the darkness to dawn

Lifting the hopeless with hope to go on

You are the rock of all salvation

Lord, I don't know where all this is going

Or how it all works out

Lead me to peace that is past understanding

A peace beyond all doubt

Oh, Lord, you are the author

Redeeming what's been done

You hold us in the present

And all that is to come

Lord, we don't know where all this is going

Or how it all works out

Lead us to peace that is past understanding

A peace beyond all doubt

And now two years and one month and nine days later, beauty emerges from what was messy and dirty and ugly in our lives.

NewSpring Florence launches at FMU's McNair Science Building at 10:30.

He is faithful! Need I say more?

Check back on Monday for some scoop on how things go...

Cookie Cawthon's Day Off

I'm doing a bit of remote blogging today. I am seven hours away from home - in the mountains of Virginia. The fall foliage is stunning, as you might expect. Hopefully I'll have some great pics to post next week (only have the camera on my phone and no cable for uploading - bummer!). Chris is working, and I am quiet. I have been alone all day today, and I love it. I am one who desperately needs regular doses of solitude and silence to soften and unzip; the only problem is that it doesn't happen regularly (my own fault for grossly overscheduling my life).

Today is one of those days where I just want to store up rest and patience and gentleness for weeks to come. Like I would love to sleep as much as possible here and have that translate into two weeks of feeling well-rested. Unfortunately, that's not the deal. In fact, what usually happens is that I return less patient than when I left because I've supped on a couple of days of selfishness and it's quite difficult to immediately jump back into mommy-mode. There's just no time of transition; someone needs milk, another needs to potty, this one wants to go to the store to buy something she has seen on TV, and that one wants you to color and read a book NOW, etc... Can anybody else identify? So thankful for my sweetheart girls (I swallowed my heart this morning when I walked in the market and saw a pack of crayons - a momma's ache, wanting to be physically near my little ones but understanding the value of some time away) and so thankful for this neat little trip, but a little bummed that I can't capture the fragrance of tranquility and release it from its dainty bottle on a day of chaos in my future.

So this place we're staying is interesting. It was built in 1766, so - you know - it's old. I love historic, so that's cool - but you're not suppose to wear jeans in the Great Hall (lobby - in case you were wondering). Chris and I arrived in the Great Hall last night at 11:00 pm both in jeans. And guess what the staple of my wardrobe for our stay is - uh, huh - jeans. Chris was like, "People, welcome to the twenty-first century; everybody wears jeans everywhere." So we're wearing our jeans, and honestly so is everyone else and shorts. No one's respecting the Great Hall; people show no decorum these days. Sigh!

And there's like 30 ladybugs that live in our room. Most of the time on the ceiling. Although one just joined me on the laptop not too long ago. Thankfully they have good manners. And they're lady-like, not creepy bugs. They call that charm. I guess...

AND - NO VENDING MACHINES! I can pay $3.50 for a Diet Pepsi in a can in our room. Whoa! I like nice and all, but it ain't nice (and neither am I) when I can't get a drink. Dude, it is not cool to mess with me like that!

We played paintball this afternoon with Chris' colleagues, and it was so fun. I was awful at it; I did not hit one person in four games. So fun though. Got a great picture of me with a pink paint ball splattered in the front of my hair. Also collected a nick on a knuckle and a hematoma on my elbow. So fun though...

And we rounded out the evening with three games of bowling and room service at the bowling alley. The first game, I had the worst score of the whole group of us, but I got my groove on after that. Shout out to lil' ole me for breaking 100 on the second game (I scored a humbling 39 the first round), and I definitely garnered the Most Improved Award.

An amusing 24 hours, to say the least...

Smilin' Your Way...

I am way excited. Stoked even. Pumped. Amped. Exhilarated. You know that feeling of having waited for something for so long that you are actually excited to numbness. Disbelief. In my mind's ear I can already hear the guitar chords summoning my heartbeat. My face is brushed by the almost imperceptible chill in the mid-morning October breeze. My smile won't quit. There is life like I haven't felt in a long time. I will laugh. And cry. And sing with eyes closed and body swayin'. My breath catches as I fight feeling overwhelmed - overwelmed by sheer delight.

Here I am to worship.

At my church.

NewSpring Florence debuts this Sunday (October 19) at 10:30 at the McNair Science Bldg Auditorium on the campus of FMU. Uh-huh!

Will you be my guest?

I'll be at the door - grinning like a crazy person - looking for you.

Stoked for sure. I plan to leave that place empty and full all at once...

Been waitin' a loooooooong time.

Back in Business!!!!

Yahooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

One more...

I have one more thing to add to my not so fave list - totally wrecked blogs early in the morning!

I dropped by this morning, and my skin was gone - my blog skin that is. My blog had been completely assaulted by photobucket ads while I slumbered - not sure how that happens! I have had to (temporarily - hopefully!) change to a different template. I also had to delete my RSS feed info, so I hope I haven't dropped all of my subscribers.

Stay tuned as I hope to have this matter resolved in a timely manner. Any help from out there is greatly appreciated, and in the mean time, color me crazy mad!

Our Not So Favorite Things...

Me

1. snakes
2. chewing gum
3. lotion (i really do hate it! there are some that aren't super greasy, but i can't stand to feel lubed up.)
4. when i really, really, really am excited to eat at a particular restaurant and it is closed; after that kind of disappointment I don't want to eat at all - and that's serious
5. tomatoes
6. scary movies
7. picking vegetables from the garden (i know that sounds so lazy and ungrateful but for years i was an indentured servant to my family's mammoth garden - it was planted in the middle of three intersecting tobacco fields - large! i resolved that i would not marry a man whose family grew a garden and i was dead serious about it)
8. having a body chemistry that attracts nations of bugs to feast on my flesh (others around me aren't nearly as tasty - don't understand it)
9. flying (the whole gravity-defying deal just freaks me out)
10. flat shoes (they're fine on other people, but i am too short and curvy to be that low to the ground)
11. trash in my trash cans (someone shared this eccentricity at a Beth Moore conference and i felt so validated)
12. reruns
13. homework (this is surely recompense for my die-hard belief that students should have homework every night - yes, i know she's only in the first grade but it's awful!)
14. fat-free salad dressing
15. things that don't end at a good stopping place (like i had to add this one because i couldn't bear for my list to stop at 14.)

I also interviewed my cute lil' fam, and this is what they had to say...

Chris

1. Georgia Bulldawg red
2. playing Baby Jaguar (which is this game he made up with the girls, but they went all nelly-nutcase on him and wanted him to play it every single day as soon as he walked in the door - with absolutely no variation from the script day after day after day after day. a dad can only take so much...)
3. CBS news
4. crabgrass
5. scary movies
6. litter (he seriously wants to be a litter patrol officer when he retires - i kid you not!)
7. credit cards
8. restaurants that serve only instant or flavored tea - we only like it brewed, straight, on the rocks with a healthy dose 0' sweet n' low (no aspartame warnings allowed - it's a vitamin in my book!)

Carson

1. collards
2. cooked carrots
3. washing and combing her hair
4. scary movies
5. arising at 6:38 each weekday morning
6. anything that requires a wait

Campbell

1. anytime momma leaves :-(
2. anytime her sister locks her door
3. anytime the spotlight hones in on her (see picture post; she doesn't even like for the three of us to sing Happy Birthday to her on her big day)
4. scary movies
5. standing in the corner
6. replacement blankies (please don't ever make the mistake of trying to convince her to use another blankie while her 2 real ones are being washed; she will flail about madly - like only a three year-old can - even if she has an accident during the night she prefers to go without cover than to allow a sub)

Hope you noticed my capitalization and punctuation had the night off - quite liberating for the psycho English teacher in me...

Runnin' on Sunshine

I lay in bed this morning having my a.m. cup of inner conflict. Run or not? Most of me was screaming, "Not!" But somehow the best choice won this round (a phenomenon that hasn't been happening all that often lately). So I headed out on the Rail Trail this radiant fall morning; it was stunning and still and fresh.

It could not have been better. And then I ran by this bench - which seemed so out of place. It was like someone sounding an airhorn in the midst of a wedding.

Oh, that I never get so lost in my own sunshine that I forget that people around me are hurting.

And then there was this wild petunia. Of the two-mile stretch I ran to and fro, there was brown and green a plenty - and some gold. And then there was this wild petunia - this moment of color. Isn't that so like Him?

Sweet Child of Mine

Campbell's teacher sent a note home today. I was not surprised. It was her most dreaded day of the school year - picture day! She thinks photogs are creepy, the whole thing is forced, and she is not participating in some concocted charade of gaiety just so I can lamely whip out pictures of my two girls with acquaintances and friends from long ago. She's not having it! At three years-old, she is not verbal enough to articulate all of that sass, but I know her well enough to know that is exactly what she would say if she could. So, let me introduce you to my Campbell...

and here she is again...

and again...

She's a bit like Wilson, the partially-revealed neighbor on Home Improvement.

Her PaPa had a great idea. I think I'm going to start a photo album for her school pictures. In place of the picture I will slide in the note from her teacher each year. This is Campbell in 3K; this is Campbell in 4K, etc... Because believe you me (Chris hates when I bust out ole' timey verbage), the day will come when she reams me for the insufficient photographic documentation of her childhood. I'm preparing myself...

Just consider this post Exhibit 45 to be used in my defense...

Seasons

Isn't life funny. There have been times in my life when I have worked so hard and been so proud of a paper or my performance on an exam or my grade report. In the classroom, I worked diligently to help move my struggling students to a higher level of achievement and felt so rewarded when they made gains. In the past, I so appreciated compliments from my peers and valued my professional evaluations.

In this season, I am proud of our Razzle Dazzle punkin! Carson and I transformed a plain orange construction paper pumpkin into this bling-bling! I am quite afraid that it isn't all that photogenic, but it is striking in person (I actually think it kinda looks ghetto in the pic, but it truly is a sight to behold). It will decorate the bulletin board outside of her classroom, and we are tickled with ourselves! Carson ran out of the bed this morning, giddy about taking our masterpiece to school. The kitchen was quiet this morning as we ate breakfast (we try not to arouse any three year-old hornets while preparing for school), and then Carson called out in a loud whisper, "I love our pumpkin!" I must say I share her sentiments.