Whatever happened to Chuck?

Remember when Richie Cunningham (Ron Howard) left "Happy Days" after Season 6 and the show was never the same again? I know you do. No matter how they tried, or who they added to their cast (i.e. Roger, Mrs. C's nephew...he was good looking...but he didn't have Richie's boyish charm), they never regained their footing as a seasoned staple on ABC. Without those key personalities you connected with from week to week (even Ralph Malph disappeared), it just wasn't that interesting to watch. Sometimes it was even painful.

That is kind of how I feel right now watching "American Idol." Last night's episode with Neil Diamond was a snoozer....and the only excitement of the evening was Paula Abdul's upstaging the "real entertainment" of the show (the idols themselves), by confusing how many times Jason Castro really sang. Some of your most notable personalities are now gone off the show....the ones that added so much color to the competition week after week. Although they may not have been my most favs (Amanda, Chekezie, Michael, and now Carly), I still enjoyed seeing them perform. They brought flavor to the show. Now instead of having Baskin Robbin's 31 Flavors on Idol, it seems like we are limited to McDonald's Vanilla only ice cream. Although McDonald's tries to disguise their vanilla by putting it in sundaes, shakes, smoothies, etc., it is still vanilla no matter how you mix it. Now that the list has been narrowed down to the Final 4 (just said goodbye to Brooke), the "taste" of the show is so bland. Can somebody say, "Amen?"

Maybe this happens every year at this time and I have just forgotten. But I miss some of the "friends" we have made along the way in watching AI this year. We have a lot of fun as a family predicting who we think will win....who we think will get voted off, etc. Lately, you will see a lot of internet buzz about the show losing its "people power".....meaning that its viewership is slowly dwindling. Maybe AI is running its course just like Happy Days did.

Not so "hill-arious" with me

Hillary Clinton and I have something in common. Without much warning, speculation, or fanfare from the media (not even analysis from Tim Russert on "Meet the Press") my poll numbers with my progeny are beginning to take a nose dive at the Hesterhouse. Once I was well-revered, loved, hugged, respected, obeyed, and cherished by our girls just as much as my husband. But things are beginning to change and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. Lately, Gregg is all but overthrowing me with landslide victories in the "Parental Primaries." That is to say that the days of "momma knows best" have inadvertently been replaced by "Daddy knows more and he knows better."




I've told Gregg about my poll numbers sliding, and he, like Obama, is well aware of his lead. But he differs with Obama in the sense that he feels badly about my plunging "likability factor." He tries to make me feel better. He says it has something to do with the "mother/daughter, same gender, same birth order, entering the teenage years, blah blah blah" stuff. I hear what he is saying, and it has all sorts of validity behind it. But it doesn't help me out. It doesn't help me feel better. And with every talk I have with my girls that is beyond the superficial and hoping to make a long lasting impact, I know that he can do it better, and that it would go a lot further if it were coming from him. I feel doomed in the sense that due to my gender, I am predisposed to having conflict with my daughters.....when my husband will slide by unscathed because they believe with all of their adolescent beings that he "hung the moon." And quite honestly, I know he has.





Please understand me. It has been one of the biggest desires of my heart as a mother to see my girls love their daddy with such an incredible intensity and have him return that love back to them 10 fold. I have received unimaginable joy over the years, as I have watched them interact and grow in their relationship with one another. To a fault, I have probably over emphasized their daddy/daughter relationship and put the importance of mine on the back burner. I have just so desperately wanted my girls to have a special, unique connection with their daddy, as I know how important the foundation of that will be in the years to come. I know how essential their loving relationship with him will be in who they will date, how they will date, who they will chose to marry, and most importantly how they view the love of their Heavenly Father. There is a lot a stake in this daddy/daughter relationship, but I must not dismiss my "God-given" contributions to their lives as well.





So, I am riding this one out in hopes that I might earn some unexpected votes along the way. That something I say, something I do, might pull me out of this slump. Maybe if I cry in front of a group of women sitting around a table, that might help.....or maybe if I say I was in the midst of sniper fire in Bosnia, that might create some credibility with my girls. Or maybe if I share a beer with some Pennsylvanians and talk about how I shot rifles when I was a young girl...that would earn me some votes with them. Or maybe it simply boils down to my need for Superdelegates. I don't know exactly what the outcome will be.....but I will declare myself a winner now.....regardless of how the "convention" turns out. Now hear this!!! I am not a quitter. I won't give up. I am not going down without a fight. Where is Michigan and Florida when I need them?

Who let the dogs out?

Sometimes the "big dogs" of discipline need to be let out at the Hesterhouse.....that is, when the level of correction must be increased due to the weight of the offense at hand. The "big dogs" are released because the minor "day to day" methods of discipline just aren't going to "cut it" in this particular case. I let out the "big dogs" when I don't have the brain capacity to come up with the "antidote" necessary for the offense. The alleged "wrong-doing" needs something extra powerful to pack a lasting punch so the "perp" knows loud and clear there is a problem...... and that problem, Houston, must be resolved with discipline.

There are two tactics I use when bringing out the "big dogs.":

1) I pray. The closer I get to parenting smack dab in the teen years, the more and more I realize how critical it is that I have God's wisdom, insight, patience, strength, endurance, etc. to make it through. I just don't have the natural ability to do this without Him. I have no choice but to rely solely on Him. It is the most strategic move I can make. Plus, it just has the added benefit of drawing me close to Him.

2) Because I don't have the innovation it takes to have the punishment effectively fit the crime, I depend on Lisa Whelchel's Creative Correction to get my discipline juices flowing. This book has been the most meaningful parenting book to me in addition to the Bible, and I honestly don't know what I would have done without it. I think God has used it greatly in my life.

Well, the "dogs" are yelping right now, and I must get back to parenting. Pray for me.....I'll pray for you. And with God holding our hearts, our hands, and our heads, we are certain to be victorious in this battle.

Thirteen Years ago today......

I think every generation unfortunately has their own "JFK" moment.

(Defined: A moment in history that shocks, saddens, and leaves a large group of people forever changed..in this case, an entire country.)

I remember listening to my mom share where she was and what she was doing the moment she learned that JFK had been shot. Her words painted a picture of an event that is deeply etched in the minds of the people who lived through it. Before our own "JFK" moment as a country on September 11, 2001, I can remember exactly where I was, and what I was doing at 9:02 am on April 19, 1995. It is a date that will be forever engraved in my mind. I stood before my 5th grade class, in Edmond Oklahoma, getting ready to begin our second day of standardized testing, which most schools administer during the Spring. It was a beautiful day....the sun shining gloriously through the one window in our classroom. Keeping the kids focused on this day would be difficult. Thoughts of summer break were already streaming through their heads, but we were making the most of our time by getting started on the test right away. Standardized testing was taken very seriously. The entire school had begun their testing promptly that morning, and there was a unified silence that enveloped the school.

I stood at the podium of my classroom, six months pregnant with our first baby. I looked out at "my kids" who were working diligently on the first phase of their test, and beamed with pride. I loved them all like they were my own. I hadn't experienced motherhood yet, so my heart was sold out exclusively to my students. Going to work each day was a pleasure for me. It was my lifelong dream to be a teacher and I poured everything into it.

Because of the strict schedule we were under as a school, we were not allowed to let students enter and exit our classrooms for any reason during our times of testing. There would be designated breaks for a snack and bathroom stop, but otherwise, there would be no one allowed in the hallways in order to keep disruption to a minimum. I looked down at my schedule to take note of when our first break would be. The kids would be testing until 10:30am. I would be transporting them to their Special at that time (Music), and we would be sure to hit the bathrooms on the way there.

As I turned the page of my testing booklet, I felt my classroom shake. It startled me and I looked up at my kids to see if they had felt it as well. I was met with 18 quizzical sets of eyes starring back at me. We were all wondering what that rumbling was. I didn't want to lose the atmosphere in my room. I told them to carry on with their testing, and I went to the door. I opened it in hopes of finding someone who could explain to me what we felt. There was no one there. The hallway was completely empty. We returned to our testing, and for the next hour and a half, had no idea what horrific news we would be learning in the minutes to come.

I went back to what I was doing, all the while trying to figure out the reason behind the tremor we felt. Were there workers on the roof and they dropped something of enormous weight on top of our classroom? Was it a sonic boom? Was it an earthquake? I was dumbfounded. When 10:30 finally rolled around, our morning testing was complete, and the kids lined up at the door. As I ushered them out of the classroom, I noticed teachers in the hallway, huddled together, hugging one another and crying. My heart began to beat rapidly as I couldn't imagine what news was causing this type of reaction of our staff. Did something happen to one of our students....one of our teachers?

I approached one of them and asked them what had happened. A fellow teacher through tears explained that there had been an explosion downtown in Oklahoma City (20 miles south of our school) and there were a number of deaths. (At that point, we did not know the magnitude of the explosion and the news was sketchy. We thought it was an accident and had no idea that it was an evil act.) Teachers were extremely concerned about our students, because many of their parents worked downtown. As the news spread, frantic parents came to pick up their children...needing desperately to be with them. I would understand that need when I became a mother myself, but at that time, my baby was safe in the womb, and I had no parental worries. By the afternoon, I only had a handful of students left in my classroom.

I wanted to go home so badly, but I needed to be there for my students. As a staff, we had to appear confident, and not anxious, so the students would remain calm. I wanted desperately to see Gregg, but I learned that he was under lock down at Tinker AFB in OKC, and did not know when he would be allowed to return home. At 3:15, the bell rang, and with a meaningful hug, I let my remaining students out the door. I drove to the safety of my home, and turned on the tv, seeing the shocking images for the first time with my own eyes. It was too much to bear. My stomach turned in reaction to what I was viewing. In my naivety, I thought to myself, "This kind of stuff only happens in the Middle East." At that time, the country did not know it was "one of our own" that chose to commit such an unspeakable act.

And then in all of the abhorrence, God made Himself known. He used the great spirit of the people of Oklahoma to pour themselves sacrificially into the situation. They gave of their time, their resources, their blood, to assist and minister to the pain in anyway they could. They got creative, they joined together, they wept, they prayed, and in the end, they showed a country what it meant to give yourself away for the sake of your neighbor. We did not know at the time that we would need the example they set when 6 years later, we would experience as a country what Oklahoma City did, although on a much grander scale.

I have shared too long....and I would be amazed if you are still reading after all of this. But this memory is part of who I am as a person. It is a piece of my history as an American and as a Christ-follower. Because you couldn't live through something that horrific and not see God throughout, making Himself illuminate greater than all the evil that was cast upon OKC that day. There are many things I have taken with me, when I left that state of "red clay" now 7 years ago. Too many to list here. But I will say that I have been permanently branded or marked, if you will, by the culture of that community of people. They are sacrificial givers and they were long before April 19, 1995. They bravely and faithfully rose to the enormous task of caring for the needs of their people in the shadow of such wickedness and they asked God for the strength to do it. He answered it then, and He continues to do so.

Early signs of flying the coop

It doesn't seem that long ago when Gregg and I "ached" for time alone with each other. Having one date night together took months to plan, and having time to just talk with one another was near impossible. There were books to read, baths to give, diapers to change, toys to pick up, meals to prepare, laundry to fold. The season of the girls needed every moment of our time was just yesterday I think, and now things seem to be gradually changing. For instance, last night the girls were both gone with friends, which just left Gregg and I fending for ourselves for dinner. As we sat across the table from one another, we looked sadly at the two empty spaces usually filled by our babies fighting for the air space to tell us about their day. Common phrases like these normally fill our dinner time hour:

"Let me talk!!"



"No....you have been talking too long...it's my turn."



"Stop interrupting me! I want to talk."




Things were so silent at the table, it seemed strange. I could have tried arguing for a turn to talk with Gregg, but he wouldn't have put up too much of a fight, I'm afraid. So, we chatted back and forth as much as we could, but in the back of our minds, I think we both were wondering, "How are we going to do this? How is it going to be just us again?" He says that he is looking forward to it in some ways. This is nothing against him whatsoever, but I am not sure I feel the same. Our lives became so wonderfully colorful when they entered the world. How can we go from two to four, and then back to two again? Yet, they cannot and should not remain with us forever....as much as I think I want them to. This gradual plan of flight I am grateful for, because I could not take a sudden departure from the nest. God is good in His design of everything, but especially in knowing that our mother hearts couldn't withstand such a rapid fraying of the apron strings.

Pass the Cascade, please.

This post is dedicated to my friend, Kim, who ALWAYS gets a "kick" out of my hair. I can see her smiling now!

It is also dedicated to my friend Lisa, who makes me die in laughter when she uses the word "coiffure" in a sentence.

And lastly, this is dedicated to my friend Susan, who understands my pain when it comes to hair. Except that she is talented with a pair of scissors, and alas, I am not. (Thus the large VISA bill and complaints from Husband #1 on why his haircuts cost $8 and mine cost......)

I spend a lot of time getting ready in the morning. Too much, really. I don't have "low maintenance" hair, and I don't have a "wash and go" complexion. Being the Hestermomma takes a lot of intentionality, and even with all that work....there are no guarantees. "You get what you get," if you know what I mean.

I have been pondering the "God-given" hours of my day, and how I use them. If God has ordained me with just so many earthly days, what I am doing with them? Am I using them according to His will, or am I wasting time with things that don't matter beyond today? (Like my hair....oh no, please!! Anything but the hair!) I think approaching "40" will prompt those types of questions out of you. (Sorry. I know you are tired of hearing about my age. But seriously, even if God allows me 80 yrs, I am already 1/2 way done. Do the math!)

So, in doing some reading yesterday, (finally finished "Looking for God" by Nancy Ortberg ), I noticed she quoted words of Jesus that have never made my radar before.

First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean. Matthew 23:26

I really like this!! This is hitting home to me. It is just as important, if not more so, to work on the inside of me, than it is in maintaining the outside. The purity or cleanliness of my heart will reflect upon the outside of me as well. Probably a "no-brainer" for you....but for me, it was a "hair-raising" moment....in a good sense. Maybe if I work more on the inside, my hours with the flat-iron will be a thing of the past. Hmmm....I need to ponder that further. :)

Stop it!!!! Stop it!!!!

I laugh at this one every time. In my continuous efforts to support my official "Keeping it real" blog guarantee, I will admit that sometimes I am the one in the middle.....and sometimes I am the one on the right. Of course, my hair NEVER looks like that. BEEP!!! WARNING!!! WARNING!!! Violation of blog guarantee now taking place. OK...Well, maybe in the morning...sometimes.

Skipping a stone across the Gene Pool

This Saturday, as I was watching Hopie recite Philippians 3:7-14 at the ASCI Speech Meet in Columbus, I became very distracted. A good mom listens intently, concentrating on her daughter's every word. I really was proud of her and the courage it took to memorize and quote so much scripture. But there was one thing I just couldn't get out of my head. As she stood before her audience sharing every word verbatim, I was mesmerized by how much she looked like my first cousin, Becky. I wanted to shake my head from side to side like they do in cartoons to dislodge my thought pattern. It's not that I don't love my cousin Becky. She is one of my favorite people. But I knew what I was there for, and it wasn't to make familial connections in my brain as to whom my daughter looks like. It was involuntary.....and I couldn't help myself. "Focus....you must focus...."

Today, I took Hopie to get a much needed haircut. She went with a friend of hers and they both had an after school beauty adjustment. They were already beautiful to begin with.....their hairdresser just fine tuned them a little bit. When we returned home, Hopie ran downstairs to show her daddy her new look. He looked over at me, without her seeing him, and mouthed "Becky." I completely agreed with him. Now, he was seeing it too. She is a chip off the old ancestral block.

I think genetics is a strange, yet fascinating thing. How is it that my daughter can look that much like her first cousin once removed? (Is that right? I don't know how to figure out the cousin branches on the family tree once you get passed the first limbs.) Maybe we have strong genes like the Kennedy's. Have you ever noticed in their family photos, how some of their facial features have floated consistently across the gene pool? Bizarre, isn't it?

PS- My cousin Becky only reads my blog once in a blue moon. It will probably take her a couple of years to notice I posted something about her. Let's see how long it takes. :)

PPS- Hopie won a "Superior" rating at the Speech Meet!! She scripturally rocks!!

With tears streaming down......

Even though I have walked in this body for 39 years now, there are still things I am learning about myself, and must embrace....because they are part of my "G0d-given wiring" and they aren't going to change. I am coming to grips with the fact that I am a "feeler" and no matter what I do to fight the joys and pains of having that attribute, it is never going to leave me. I feel a person's triumph....I feel their tragedies. I feel so much some times, I struggle with how to communicate it beyond my feeble words. I doubt that people will believe me when I tell them that I truly "feel their pain." (No thanks to Bill Clinton!!) My husband always tells me that our greatest strengths can sometimes be our greatest weaknesses. I don't like to hear that, but he is right. Because as I sit here before you right now, I have tears streaming down my cheeks. And this is why:

Last week, a friend of mine sent me a link to a blog she had been following recently. In her email to me, she briefly described the subject matter of the blog, and my instant thought was, "I am not going to be able to handle this. I can't read it. I won't." But Gregg was flying, the girls were in bed for the night, and it was just the laptop and me, so I decided to click on the link. For the next hour, I read through entry after entry, as if I were reading a book, wanting desperately to get to the happy ending. I did everything I could to keep my tears under control and not allow "Hoover Dam" to burst. I kept selfishly saying to myself, "You know you won't fall asleep if you start crying now. You have a lot to accomplish tomorrow. You need your rest." I successfully kept my eyes dry but I noticed I wasn't allowing myself to feel the words of this blog like I would have, if I would have just allowed the tears to flow. Emotion is such a big part of who I am. Because I wasn't allowing myself to feel it, I wasn't absorbing it like I should.

Today, I revisited the site to learn more of how the family was doing, how they were praising God through their circumstances. And then.....the Dam broke. As much as we as a sinful society shine a spotlight on people's pain, this is not my heart's intention in sharing this with you this morning. But if you would like to be inspired, if you would like to see God glorified in the midst of someone's intense season of "rain," I think it would be worth reading. You never know how God might use this story in your own life. If you are a feeler like me, it may be too much for you, and I am learning that there is nothing wrong with that. Feel free to avoid it if you need to. That is perfectly OK. It really is.

http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2008_04_01_archive.html

The "Cat"ernity Ward

Call me a seeker of small thrills if you must. I guess it doesn't take much to "wow me." And boy, was I "wowed" today! We have some friends who live a "stone's throw" from us, (I am not talking about the grave stones across the street) who found out about two weeks ago they were expecting.....expecting kittens, that is. They are the type of animal people I envy. They have no problem taking in a stray. In fact, they took two on within the last 6 months. They are never preoccupied with the cost of another animal, and they don't seem to worry too much about what the furry addition might do to the house. These are all things I don't want to consider, but do, when I get the itch to add another pet to the Hesterhouse. The first born structured side of me cannot throw caution to the wind when it comes to pets. (Plus, I have the constant drumbeat of "no....no....no" resounding from Husband #1.) Our friends took the news of their pregnant kitty in stride, and learned from the vet that she only had a few weeks to go before the bundle arrived.

I have always been a "cat person" by genetics. I come from a long line of cat lovers on my dad's side. Yet, I have never seen a pregnant cat before ( I know, I must get out more), let alone seen kittens come into the world. I asked our friends if they would let us know when "Cookie" went into labor. I wasn't sure if this request would be an imposition, because I know NOTHING about cat delivery. (I am still learning about "human delivery" and I have had two of my own. ) Our friends said they would be sure to let us know, but they are busy people, and I really didn't expect to hear anything. I felt like it was asking a lot to be one of the first they called with the news.

We received THE CALL today, and the girls and I started screaming, as if we had just received 4 tickets to Disney World, complete with overnight stay in Cinderella's Castle. I cannot tell you how honored I was they thought to call us. "Cookie" went into labor while the family was gone this morning. When they returned home, they found her in the hallway with one little bundle of joy....the umbilical cord still attached to the kitten. We dropped everything we were doing and ran over to see this new little one. Because I suffer from minor feline philistinism, I had no idea what this kitten would look like. Would it have fur? How big would it be? Would "Cookie" still love him/her if we looked at the kitten....maybe even touched it? (You know how birds are about that kind of stuff.) As we entered the house, you would have thought we were on holy ground. We tip toed quietly so as not to disturb the new mother. Turning the corner, we found "Cookie" laying very peacefully in the very same spot in the hallway where she had given birth just a little while before. She looked great and we told her so. We commended her efforts at kitten delivery and raved about how beautiful her baby was. The kitten was truly amazing....incredible to look at with all its God-given detail being displayed before us. "Cookie" was not a modest mother, and nursed her baby right in front of us. She never once ask for a sheet to cover herself up. We could hear the newborn making sweet little squeaks as she drank from her mother. We just sat there and starred. "Cookie" purred away as if to say "Look what I did, guys!" We were in awe of her and even more in awe with her Creator.

We sat in the hallway and waited for Kitten #2 to come into the world. We may have missed the first, but we weren't going to miss this one!!! So we waited.....and we waited some more. But "Cookie" never had another one, at least not while we were there. She just continued with her "minutes old" mother instinct, and cleaned up her baby very meticulously. We felt like we needed to let the family have some alone time with "Cookie and kitten," so we went home. Our friends promised they would give us a call as soon as Kitten #2 came into the world.

It is now 5 hours since we had the privilege of viewing this little one, and the phone hasn't rang. I am thinking that "Cookie's" kitten may be her one and only. Maybe this was all "Cookie" could handle. Apparently, she is not much older than her offspring. But it was clear today she has the innate skills to nurture, pamper, and dare I say "temporarily cherish" this little one. As a mother myself, I can identify with all those feelings. It is the "temporarily cherish one I just can't relate to.

Where is the justice?????

Unfortunately, the DVR malfunctioned last night and we didn't get to witness this shocker for ourselves. Would someone please tell me how Michael Johns gets voted off American Idol before Kristy Lee Cook? **My apologies to those that don't "give a hoot" about AI. I just had to get this "off my chest." As Husband #1 always says, "That really chaps my hide."

The Charm of the "Chairman"

**Please see original post on April 3rd before reading.

I experienced deja vous yesterday. Strange feeling, isn't it? Faith and I were returning to school to pick up Hopie after an orthodontist appointment. As we turned the corner, I noticed 4 more folding chairs on the side of the road....at the very same house I got them from last week. How could this be? Was it an optical illusion? Was it God providing "manna" in the form of folding chairs? I looked over at Faith to make sure the younger eyes of my daughter were seeing the same thing. Mine haven't been working that well lately anyway....must be the "approaching 40 thing." She concurred with my visionary assessment. My eyes weren't deceiving me! There really was more!! Oh glorious day!!!

I walked up to the house, just as I did last week, to make sure it was ok I took the chairs. I am not sure why I feel it necessary to get permission when I am "garbage picking." I just want to be polite about it, I guess. It feels like stealing, otherwise. In the garage, I found two elderly men working on a tractor. One I recognized from my "find" last week. I dazzled them with my "award winning personality" ( groan if you must) and asked if it would be ok if I took the chairs. His response was the same as it was last week.....a simple fling of the hand, and the words "take 'em." My first round of chairs has generated the same question from friends and family of "Where did these originally come from?" So I had to ask some background on the chairs. Here is the story:

1) The chairs are from a funeral home in southern Ohio.
2) They purchased them at an auction.
3) They started with 30 of them years ago, and have been gradually putting them out on the side of the road for the garbage man. But he has yet to see one of them, because they are always picked up before hand by people like "yours truly."
4) He only has two left, and is going to keep those. Unless.....I put on my charm again. :)

There is so much more to this story than meets the eye. The man who did most of the talking with me is 90 years old. He is short, round, with thinning white hair. His tolerance for my questions was "hit and miss." Sometimes he didn't mind answering them... sometimes he showed that he did. And if you are 90 years old, you have my complete permission to be that way. The former mechanics teacher shared with me that he is raising his 10 year old grandson by himself. His son had died, and the mother is in prison for arson. She is due to get out very soon. I was speechless. My thoughts drifted to the Hestergirls' newborn/toddler season, when I was parenting alone and how exhausted I was. THIS MAN IS 90 YRS. OLD!!!!! His hardship takes away any probability my complaints of occasional single parenting will hold any water in the future. I kept commending him on what he was doing, and the value it had on his grandson. But that was all I could say, because I was left without words. I thanked him for the chairs, and went back to load them in the van. The chairs suddenly seemed worthless to me. Here was a man who was spending the "twilight of his twilight years" trying his best to make an investment in future generations of his family....no matter how troubled they appeared.

My mom was here for the weekend, and commented "I bet there's a story behind those chairs" when I showed them to her in the garage. (And, that's when we only had 5 of them.) Boy...she wasn't kidding! We didn't know the half of it. As we re-cover each one of them, I will pray for this sweet, yet cantankerous elderly man, because there is certainly more to him than meets the eye. He will always be the "chairman" in my eyes.

My Posse's getting laughed at.....

Should I really admit this? OK...in the name of "keeping it real," I will. I realize I have been a little on the "deep" side lately in Blogdom (I try to keep that "beast" under control, but sometimes I just can't help myself), so in effort to "lighten up," I will share with you my fav commercial as of late. There is nothing to this commercial....nothing eye catching or particularly funny to the average person. But to me, it really cracks me up. I love the way the car looks, and the guy's failed attempts at lip-syncing the jingle in the backseat. I have other favorites....but I will keep those to myself...for now.

This has me thinkin'

Christians tend to wear "badges of holiness" based on what they stand against rather than reflecting the gracious, redemptive image of God by living out what we stand for.

-Mark Waltz, Granger Community Church

I am sitting here with my laptop, rereading this statement over and over again, because it strikes a convicting cord with me. How many times do I communicate the things I stand against as a Christ-follower, instead of relaying the grace that I have received as a result? Whew!!! This one has hit me hard!!

A Lesson on "What not to do" from the Rev. Fordwick

One of my favorite episodes of "The Waltons" (ohhh! I hear groaning from my blaudience!! Come on, you really should give John Boy and the gang a try!) is from Season 1, when the Rev. Fordwick (played by John Ritter...before the days of Jack Tripper) comes for a visit to Walton's Mountain. He has just graduated from "divinity school," and is set to do his first revival right next to Ike Godsey's store. He is a "hell, fire, and brimstone" kind of speaker, based on the modeling of his teachers during his training. He sees himself above everyone else, and uses scripture to verbally rebuke anyone who might come against it. This rubs John Walton Sr. the wrong way, as he isn't sure how he feels about God in the first place. He observes the Rev. condemning the daily actions of his family, going even so far as to yell his future Sunday sermon at the Walton kids. The Rev. loves to throw the word "Repent" around at people. He thinks every one needs to repent, and is proud of himself, because the word apparently doesn't apply to him. That is, until he mistakenly drinks too much of the Baldwin sisters' "Recipe." Oh, I love that part!!!

We have been spending some time at NewLife talking about repentance. Sometimes the very word can make people cringe....but lately, I have come to have a new appreciation for it. I think repentance has to do with brokenness, a new awakening, a fresh understanding. Repentance feels good...once you get there. There is only one thing it lacks.... an insurance policy with a clause that says, "If you truly repent over something in your life, you will be guaranteed to never do it again." Oh, how I wish that were true!!! Because at the moment I am repenting over my life struggles with pride. And I long to have humility be a deep discipline in my life. I want God to ensure me, that if I go to Him with this, and confess it to Him, it will be forever gone. As if to say, "I recognize it, God. I know it's there. Could You get rid of it, so I never see it in myself again?" Which brings me to this question.....if God would promise to forever remove a stumbling block in your life, something you are so "sick and tired of" within yourself, what would it be?

Based upon the book......

Long before I had my own blog, I just tormented people verbally with my thoughts, instead of writing them. :) Back in 2005, you may remember me raving about a "little known" book entitled "Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller. I really loved it, and as "cutting edge" as I like to be with my reading, I may have been a little bit behind the trend, as the book was already two years old when I read it.

It is difficult to describe what "Blue Like Jazz" is about. In its most simplistic form, it is about a man's journey to find God outside of man made religious boundaries. But it is deep (not Ravi Zacharias deep) and conversational. Donald Miller is a great storyteller, and has the ability to make you enjoy the people in his life as much as he does. But he also has a personality in words that might rub some the wrong way. Most people have thoroughly enjoyed the book. I haven't heard many that haven't.

Strangely enough, I just learned that they are going to make a movie out of "BLJ." Having read the book, I couldn't imagine how they were going to do that. Then I came upon this tidbit of information regarding the screenplay of the movie, and then it began to make sense:

Steve Taylor (Director of the movie): It's about a 20-year-old from Houston who has basically grown up in church and is confused, disillusioned, and kind of at the place most college sophomores are. He decides to flee his upbringing and go to this school—Reed College—that he perceives as being the most opposite of where he's grown up in his life. I don't want to give away a lot, but essentially, the fictional "Don" character lives a lot of the experiences that Donald Miller writes and talks about in his book. The "Don" character is a lot different, but we thought that was the most interesting way to portray this experience.

Donald Miller: It's a movie about coming out of the closet regarding who you are as a person. The character happens to be a Christian and is very ashamed of that, but he's able to come out of the closet by the end of it. It's really a film more about a human being than it is about Christianity. Christianity is really just the thing that this human being is dealing with.

Now this is something I've gotta see!!!!!

PS- Donald Miller's next book is coming out in September 2009. Apparently, it is fiction. Interesting.....

PPS- In case you are wondering, the chairs passed inspection by Husband #1. Yippee! Now you can sleep... :)

The View from my Window

People sometimes ask me if I get "creeped out" living across the street from a cemetery. I really don't. Husband #1 thinks it is a very convenient location for us. After all the moving we did in our early years of marriage, he sees us just simply making our last move across the street, to meet our final "resting place." He is just still that tired of moving, I guess.

The cemetery has lots of activity throughout the day.....sometimes we witness someone's burial....sometimes we are privy to someone honoring a dear one's life by visiting their tombstone. Last Sunday afternoon, I went in the living room to fluff up the pillows on the couch. (I am first born, and everything must have its place, even the stuffing in the pillows.) As I was straightening, I looked out the window and noticed a man standing alone in the cemetery. He was a tall, thin elderly man, with a hat on. I instantly felt sadness for him as I saw his gaze focusing downward, as if trying to connect with whomever he was there to "see." I could imagine him tracing the letters on the marker of his loved one with his eyes. I wanted so desperately to go out there and talk with him. I wanted to minister to his wounds of loss, and have him share with me who his beloved was, and how much he/she meant to him. I would ask him questions, so he could joyfully paint a picture of this person who was so important to him. Maybe it was his precious wife, maybe it was a son, a daughter, or a brother who had been gone from his life for some time. Whomever this person was, his love for them prompted him to take time out of his day to honor them.....remember them. I wanted to just simply walk up beside him, and put my arm around him and say nothing. I wish we lived in a world where we could be free to do that. Where the gift bearer and the gift receiver would be in an unspoken accord with one another.

I never did go across the street. I didn't even stand there watching him for too long, because I felt like I might be "eyes-dropping" on a tender moment for him. I just silently hoped that the person whom he was coming to honor knew their Saviour. And I hoped he did too.

Living across the street from a cemetery is not weird for me because it is always a constant reminder for me of the Eternal. That this isn't ALL there is. I am realizing all the more how temporal this life is.....this body is....and it makes me want to focus all the more on glorifying God with the days He has given me. How precious life is!!! But how even more wonderful Heaven will be!!

One Woman's Junk

My mom never raised me to go "garbage picking." We never went to garage sales growing up...we just had them. I had never heard of such things as "thrift stores" until I was a married woman. I don't want to sound as if I grew up "privileged" in the area of possessions (privileged in other areas, of course), but we just weren't part of the "second hand" culture back then. But I can't imagine not being a part of it now. Garage Sale Season (don't get this mixed up with Hunting Season) is just around the corner. The rummage blinders are now off, and I can see the salvage light.

Yesterday, on my way to pick up the girls from school, I witnessed my first "along the roadside" find of 2008. It has been a while since I have skidded to the side of the road and grabbed a treasure waiting for an unappreciative garbage man. You never know if the find is really a "true find" until you see it close up. (If you are a fellow garbage picker, you know what I am talking about. )A feeling of defeat wells up in you when you realize "the treasure's" real beauty was only in the eyes of its former beholder. But yesterday, I struck GOLD....at least I think I did. I will have to see what Husband #1 says, because he will give the final say as to whether its a keeper or not. I haven't even mentioned it to him yet, because I had to clean them up....make them presentable for him. I have them strategically placed in the garage for him when he gets home from work.....polished with Pledge and some much required English Oil. I will let you know what he says. I know you will be cheering these treasures on!!!!!

PS- Mii's arm is very sore from playing too much tennis. I can barely blog. :)

Wii might....Wii might not

In the spirit of April Fool's Day, I would like to propose this story to you. Today, after months and months of Walmart stalking, "wii" finally got our "wii." Or maybe "wii" didn't. It is the first of April, after all. I may be fabricating the whole thing. Yet, I couldn't believe it when I asked my good Walmart friend in Electronics if they had any in. When hii nonchalantly replied, "Yes, wii have 6," I asked him to pinch mii. Hii must have been afraid of a potential lawsuit because hii didn't oblige. Hii just walked away, leaving mii to pier through the glass case, searching the shelves to see if hii was really telling mii the truth. Maybe hii was, maybe hii wasn't.

A little news we would like to share.....

Gregg and I would like to announce that we are expecting..........










expecting to celebrate "April Fool's Day" in some strange, fun way today! Enjoy!

Yippee! I've found one!

I love to read, but I am a picky reader. (I am also a picky eater...but that is for another post.) My favorite author, Angela Hunt, hasn't come out with anything in a while that I have been really interested in. Her new book, The Face, is due out in August, but obviously that is a while down the road. I also love Francine Rivers, but she sometimes writes in a genre (Historical Bible Fiction....sounds strange, doesn't it?) that I am not really in to. So....based on my "picky-ness," I have really limited myself lately to whom I will read. But, I am here to announce that my literary drought is now over. I have found a new author, and I am sooooo excited.

It has been so long since I have picked up a Christian fiction book that I cannot put down. (Oh, wait a minute... I might be exaggerating. There was that little book called "The Shack" that made quite an impression on me a few months ago.) I have had so much fun with "Scoop" by Rene Gutteridge (a story about a dysfunctional TV News Station). I look forward to moments during the day when I can take a break and read a few pages of it. This is the first book in her "Occupational Hazards" series. She is so funny and I have NEVER read anything like her before. I cannot even tell you what genre she tends to write in, because she might be the "one and only" in her niche. Not only do I love her humor, but she hails from one of my favorite places on earth, Oklahoma City (birthplace of the Hestergirls, you know). I have already reserved "Snitch" from the library, which continues in the "Occupational Hazards" series. I am thrilled to have something new to read!!!

So....does "Scoop" hold up to the Hestermomma Money Back Guarantee when it comes to recommending a book? I think it should, but I don't know. You have to have a certain sense of humor to appreciate it. My humor apparently is a little strange, because my husband always tells me that nobody finds me as funny as I do. :) Give it a try...let me know what you think.