Gardening and Evangelism

I had a conversation with someone a while back about gardening.  You know, plants and flowers and lovely yards.  (If you know me, you would have read that in a sing songy sarcastic voice.  If you didn't read it correctly the first time, I encourage you to go back and read it right.)  I hate gardening.  Don't get me wrong, I like flowers.  I like to look at them, and when it is pleasant, I like to smell them.  However...I have no desire to spend $800 down at Lowe's to trek in plants and dirt and pretty rocks and weed killer and rakes and shovels and seeds.  I have no desire to waste a perfectly perfect Saturday on my hands and knees in dirt, digging and planting and pulling weeks.  <------THAT, sounds WAY too much like work to me.  And work does NOT belong on my Saturdays.   See here for proof. 

So anyway...back to the conversation.  I was talking about how I "love" to garden and that is why our wonderfully landscaped backyard, is not so wonderfully landscaped anymore. 

Back story...We bought our house from people who LOVED to garden.  And not the way I love to garden, but the way a....well...a, uh...person who loves...to...garden...loves gar..den..ing.   Anyway...There were 2 ponds and tons of rosebushes and other random flowers and different grasses and I think some small trees, or I don't know what all.  I just know that none of it came back the way it looked when we moved in.  Which means, it was all very high maintenance.  Ew.  The ponds were taken out immediately (We had small children.  I didn't need any drowning incidents.) The grasses have been mowed over, the 75 hostas are no more, the rosebushes have been hacked at (although, there is some right outside the window that I currently see.  Haven't seen any roses in 2 years, so surprise on me) and the only real left overs are the bleeding hearts which are no maintenance and I adore. 

This person was shocked.  "You mean you just tore it all out?"  She was full on disgusted with this idea and I was like "Yup.  Sure did."  Then I was informed of all the wonderful plants that are so easy to grow and how you don't have to do anything except for plant them.  And in my head I added, "yeah and water them, and not mow over them, and make sure the animals aren't eating them and, and, and, 100 other things that I don't want to waste my Saturdays on."  So I did the polite thing.  I nodded my head and looked interested while my brain tape just kept saying "Blah Blah Blah.  Is this conversation over yet?"

Later I was replaying this in my mind and I had a thought....Do we evangelize the way people talk to me about gardening?

I mean really....When we find out someone isn't a Christian, or has a different world view than us, do we try to change them and make them "right?"  Do we look at them in disgust as if what is wrong with you? You don't know how awesome I am?  Here let me give you a list of how I can make you better.  And I say "we" because, let me be honest and frank.  I don't evangelize.  I am not against it, actually I whole heartedly believe it is something I should be doing.  I just don't.  I am afraid of doing it.  I am afraid that people will look at me the way I look at them when they are talking to me about gardening.

*Head bob*  Yeah, that sounds nice.  Wow, I didn't know that.  *Blah blah blah.  Is this conversation over yet?*

SO maybe I am just rambling, but maybe instead of trying to convert, and make others right, we should take a page from...oh I don't know...maybe JESUS and just love people.  Just love people.   Wow.  That doesn't sound much easier....

I think this though has evolved into a different blog.  Once which I will save for another day....

Grief, Guilt and all that goes with it

This afternoon I am off accompanied by my three children to Clinton, Ky.  It's a small town in Western Ky.  Very homey.  I like it.  Unfortunately we are not going for a vacation.  We are going because my Grandmother died last Thursday night at the age of 93.

I am having LOTS of mixed emotions.  Of course I am sad, but I can't help but be excited for her.  She gets to live with JESUS.  Jesus ya'll!  No more pain, or hard time getting around.  No more 4 walls of a nursing home caging her in.  She gets to skip and run and laugh all the way to Jesus' feet!  Plus, in my Heaven, you remember your loved ones and have a grand party whenever.  Which means Granddaddy met her with open arms and overalls. 

But the worst emotion I am feeling right now is jealousy.  Jealousy for my kids.  I had almost 30 years with both my grandmas in my life.  I had 15 years with one grandpa and 13 with the other.  I even got time with my great grandparents.  But my children only had 3, 4, 9 years with their grandpa.  THREE YEARS.  FOUR YEARS.  NINE YEARS.    And all that I wrote in that last paragraph applies to my dad too.  But you know what my reaction is.

FOOEY!

Fooey...because 61 is TOO young.  3 is NOT an appropriate age to lose your Papaw.  28 is NOT an appropriate age to bury your father.

And I feel so GUILTY.  I feel guilty because I should be grieving for Grandmother.  I should be reflecting on her life and all the memories with her.  And all I see is my dad.  All I hear is his last words to me.  All I feel is this HOLE that my DADDY filled up and it is empty.

So yeah.  At times I feel as if I have grieved and moved on.  I can talk about Dad and not bawl.  I can laugh at him and his horrendous spelling.  I can see pictures and smile.  But then there are times when the mention of his name brings torrential amounts of tears.  Watching a video and hearing his voice, and I am hurting and aching just like the day he died. 

So as I am attending my grandmother's visitation and funeral and visiting with family I haven't seen in so long, I will be thankful for her long life.  I will be thankful for years and years with 4 children, 10 grandchildren, 24 great grandchildren and 1 great great grandchild.  I will be joyous that she is living it up in Heaven, partying with Jesus.  But I will also, secretly, be harboring my anger and jealousy that my dad didn't do those things.  And hopefully I will be able to work on those feelings.  But to be honest.  Not now.  Maybe next week or next month.  But not today.  And not tomorrow.  *Sigh*  Bare with my God, I am still just a child in need of your guidance and patience.

BOOBS I tell you...BOOBS!!

I have had more than one person ask me about how I was doing because Zaia will be going to kindergarten in the fall.  It makes me sad, but to be honest, I am not thinking about it much because I have bigger fish to fry.

Joel is going to be attending the middle school next year.  Yes, you know, JUNIOR HIGH.  As in, pimples and hormones and...well...BOOBS!

No, not for Joel, but on others.  You know, the GIRLS. 

I just (and by just, I mean, like 90 seconds ago) dropped him off for his first dance.  Yes...DANCE.  The student council at the middle school is hosting a dance for 5th through 8th grade.  A sort of "hello" to the 5th graders coming into the school and a "goodbye" to the 8th graders leaving for high school.  *Shutter* 

Don't get me wrong, I am excited for him.  I LOVED dances.  I was (maybe still am...) into all the drama that could come out of it.  "I am in LOVE with him but he won't even say HELLO!!!  We are supposed to be friends!  What a jerk!" or "Why does that guy keep standing by me.  I don't even like him!" or "Oh my god Becky.  Look at her butt..."  Oh wait...I never said that...Just DANCED TO IT!!!! 

So yeah....I REALLY don't believe that 1)my son is old enough to go through all those emotions (He's just a little BOY!!!) and more importantly 2) I am old enough to be the mother of someone going through all those emotions (I am YOUNG!! YOUNG I say!!).

So yeah...I just dropped him off for his first dance and he was so excited.  And I am excited for him....as I watched those girls with their BOOBS follow behind him.   Oy vey!

Stay Tuned

I have had lots of thoughts and wanted to blog many, many times in the past week.  I just haven't.  I have three or four good blogs partly worked out in my brain.  I just haven't made the time to finish them.  I have been preoccupied.

Sorry.

However, this is my "Next week on....." message.  I still am not taking the time to work them out.  But I promise when I do, you might be bombarded with blogs.  So for now.....Stayed tuned.

Words like weapons

I told myself I wasn't going to blog about this.  I told Scott I wasn't going to blog about this.  But here I am...blogging about this. 

First off, I will warn you that I am about to be vague.  And I have a hard time being vague, so if this makes no sense, I am sorry.  Just say "hey there crazy lady" and move on. 

Has someone ever said something to you and it felt like a dagger right to your soul?  Has anyone ever said words that pierced your heart as no sword could?  Even worse, have you done it?  Even worser (I know, I know...bad grammar) have you done it and not realized it?

Words are so handy.  They can be the best band aid Johnson & Johnson ever came up with.  They can lift you out of a cold dark place like no rope ever could.  They can be the light at the end of the long tunnel.  They can be the icing on an already delicious 7 layer cake. 

Words can also be weapons.  Weapons that you have sharpened and sharpened and had a plan when to whip them out and use them.  They can be so carefully crafted that they slice the target in half in one smooth swoosh.  They can also be the pistol that you may keep for "safety" and never really plan on using.  Until one day, one hour, one minute you whip it out and shoot it.  Right into the heart of someone you love.

This happened to me today.  Words that were so sharp and so painful that I didn't quite feel the severity of it until later.  Later when I looked at myself and said "Hey!  There is blood here!"  Words that twisted and burrowed their way deep into my heart.  Words that had not been said to hurt me, but none the less, they did.

I was/am so hurt, yet I almost feel...guilty.  Guilty because I know these words weren't meant to hurt me and so I shouldn't feel the hurt.  After all, these words were just an expression of someone else's frustrations.  Even if those frustrations included me.  Also because...gulp...how many times have I said words, sharpened pointy words, that have pierced others' hearts.  Other big hearts and even, little hearts.  Oh how I pray that those hearts that I have pierced with my weapons have healed and healed correctly.  I pray that the scars aren't visible or felt.  I pray that an amazing Surgeon was able to heal the hurt that my words may have caused.  I pray that I will be more cautious with my weapons.  My eyes more wide open to the damage my words can do.  I also pray that the amazing Surgeon will heal my heart and keep the ugly vindictive weapons that the enemy is stewing for me away.  Away from my mouth so that I will not use my words for weapons.

Holy Glasses Batman!

Today Zaia had her required Kindergarten eye exam.  About 3 years or so ago the state of Illinois passed a law requiring students entering Kindergarten to get an eye exam from an eye doctor.  Not just the generic one the pediatricians have, but a big one.  So today was the day Zaia went.  I had a deja vu feeling as we were JUST in that office last Monday morning.  The verdict?  Zaia gets glasses!!!  At 5!  How weird?!  She never even seemed to act like she ever needed glasses.  She doesn't sit too close to anything and doesn't squint.  Dr. Tim (as we have begun to call him) said that she probably never knew any different and so didn't know that her vision was "bad."  She is farsighted, meaning she can't see things close up.  I mentioned 35 minutes into her exam when she was getting fidgety, that she is our child with the short attention span.  After he finished up, he brought that back up.  He said that because her eyes were straining when she was doing something close up (coloring, reading, table work, etc) she probably just got tired quicker and that is why she didn't stick with it for very long.   Huh.  Nice to know!  He actually said lots of children are misdiagnosed with ADD when they really just need glasses!  Amazing!  Who knew?  I certainly didn't.  Zaia picked out pinkish reddish frames (of course...what else would Ms. Zaia, fashion extraordinaire, pick?) and she looked so cute.  She tried on about 10 different frames and would say "I look like you Mommy!" Which of course, I agreed.  She did. 

So 2 kids and 2 pairs of glasses within a week of each other.  Stay tuned for more of "As Anessa's Hair Falls Out"!!