IT'S MORE THAN FAITH!

For the third time, in a matter of months, I have heard or read a disturbing sentiment from some friends. This is not a direct quote, but it goes something like this: "I'm a Christian, but I have had hard times. Therefore, I have lost my faith."

OK...I have serious issues with that statement. I really do. First, I have a question for you. Is it a matter of faith? I mean, come on. What is faith to you? I know what faith is to me. It's the "substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

It disturbs me because I start to think that you (and I'm being general here) are only a Christian to have an easy time. Well, if you are having an easy time, then I would suggest to you that obedience is a very serious problem for you.

Ever since I have heard statements such as this, I have been on the lookout for evidence suggesting the proverbial bed of roses. I have not seen ANYWHERE in the Bible that says, "Follow me and I will make you fishers of men....and rich, and beautiful, and lucky and have an easy life." PLEASE! If you have found it, let me know, because I am totally missing the point of the Word.

I told a friend, just this past weekend that if a Christian is having a hard time, perhaps he or she is doing something right. I mean, an effective Christian would be dangerous to Satan, right? He would then try to thwart all that was being done.

Now I'm not saying that a flat tire is reason to doubt your faith. Actually, I think a flat tire should make you consider your path to work. Don't be a bozo. God expects His children to take a certain amount of responsibility for his or her actions. If something so petty as car troubles has you questioning your faith...well, you are slow on the upswing. You should have questioned it LONG AGO!!!

While I was away this weekend, I had a lovely opportunity to bond with a dear friend, add a dear friend to the ranks, and unfortunately, intimidate a possible friend. I didn't mean to do it, but I can come on a bit strong. (Those of you who know me are laughing.)

It was a wonderful time of fellowship and ministering. (That is a concept that I still have trouble with, but I do try. Honestly, I don't feel that I have the knowledge to minister or preach or witness or even share what I KNOW...and that is sad...I'll be working on that.) However, this third person should have been back-up for me while I spoke to my new friend. She is in a position that shouts knowledge, grace and FAITH. I didn't see it. She will be in my prayers.

In my prayers, also, will be the other people who seem to have lost their way on the path of faith. If they read this and end up upset with me, I encourage them to email me. You are in danger. If you are that easily shaken, then you are an EASY TARGET!

I truly believe that once you have true faith, then you can't be swayed to believe otherwise. In fact, I'm counting on this for a few DEAR friends of other faiths. They are going to hell because they do not believe in the one true Savior, Jesus Christ. Please be in prayer with me.

That is all my ramblings tonight. If you need someone to pray with you, please leave a comment. If it is private, I will not publish. God bless you all!

I DID IT.....and I'm NOT ashamed (I don't think)

I always swore I wouldn't.

I don't know why I finally succumbed to peer pressure.

My hubby was indifferent.

It's an expensive habit.

I don't know how I could possibly maintain a normal life after this.

I have many friends who have done it...many who still do it...yet I always said, "NOT ME!"

Why did I give in? I have (for the past 15 years) been adamant about NOT participating in this...this thing, this beast, this monstrous activity that pulls you away from family and friends and forces you into seclusion.

I was dead-set in NOT doing this...just like I was dead-set in not gaining the "freshman fifteen" (several years in a row, but who needs 120 pounds, anyway? I mean, 120 pounds...that is SO EIGHTIES!)

So, I went to see a friend. We were alone when she began to discuss this habit of hers, all the while trying to nudge me...using soft tones and understanding words...to woo me, if you will, into this place...this place I swore to never go.

So nervous was I, at one point, that we had to stop so that I could calm down with a drink. Oh, how it calmed my nerves...burning as it slid down my throat in it's ice-cold, effervescent goodness. (Dr Pepper is good that way. :D)

After my old friend (the fully-leaded one) soothed my nerves, I turned to my other friend..the Jezebel. She told me I didn't have to do it if I didn't want to. I didn't have to do as much as she was used to doing. I could just start off small. In fact, if I didn't like it, I could always stop...that is IF I had the will-power to stop. That's how these nasty habits usually go.

After a bit more discussion, and seeing her stash, I was assured that it would not hurt. I could use from her stores if I didn't have all I needed and wanted. There were some others who said I could take from their stash as well. Only 5 of us...and I'm the one who doesn't know what she's doing. So many colors. So many things to choose from. How could I dabble without committing so much of myself? My friend offered to help as much as she could.

SO, this weekend I will be going with my friend and 3 "will-be" friends to a scrapbook retreat.

PLEASE don't judge me!

Well, shut my mouth!

OK...one of my favorite lines from a movie comes from Mary Poppins. She had just slid up the banister. Little Michael Banks backs into a wall with his mouth wide open. Mary Poppins says, "Close your mouth please, Michael. We are not a codfish." *this is said in a wonderful British accent.

Well anyway, I saw a blog rating thingymajig on a friends blog. And she uses WAY worse language than I do. I love my friend dearly. I'm not offended by what she says or how she says it (and I am a faithful reader.) SO, when I saw her rating as a "NC-17...no one 17 and under admitted" I was interested to see mine. I mean, it has to be a rated G...I'm talking a Disney film, here.

SO...here it is:

Because I said "drugs" 4 times, "hurt" 3 times, "hell" twice, and "kill" once. (And I probably said "hell" when I was witnessing on my blog.)

SO...I'm a codfish!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, H-MAN!

Well, today my oldest turns 8. EIGHT!!! I can't believe it. In every birthday post, I've asked "where has the time gone?" Well...I ask you...."WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?"

My oldest had to be one of the most anticipated of children. We waited a long time for him. I was to the point that I thought we would just realize one day that we had "forgotten" to have kids. My uterus was jumpy from about the age 22. (I had already been married for 2 years, so it was expected by friends and family for us to start our family a lot sooner than we did.)

Nope...it was a LONG time...well, long for the female in the relationship, anyway. I was 5 months shy of turning 28 before H-man was conceived. We were very nervous...being so grown-up and all...about the responsibilities of starting a family. We understood the seriousness of having children. And though we always wanted kids and loved children, we had NO CLUE how much our lives would change and how we could fall so completely and hopelessly in love with a person...a person who could bring tears of joy, tears of anger and tears of sadness in one fell swoop.

Being educated and of some questionable intelligence we knew what we had to do to prepare. I went to the doctor to make sure that everything was percolating as it should and to find out if there were any tips on making it happen really fast. (I think I was afraid my hubby would change his mind on the timing, LOL)

I went in for an exam and when asked, I explained to the nurse the plan for making babies. She asked my age and my past preventive measures. I answered everything. As I waited in the examining room, in my little (and I mean LITTLE) shirt with the strings that tie in the front and the breeze cooling the nether regions...I mean really...opening up the front? I would MUCH rather be there naked....but I digress.

As I sat shivering on the table, trying to cover my legs with the paper tablecloth I heard the doctor ask about his next patient. He was from Spain, so I couldn't understand him very well. (You would think that all my time in west Texas around all the Mexicans would help...it didn't.) Anyway, I heard a heavily accented "mumble mumble mumble." Then the nurse said, "She is ready to get pregnant."

"Mumble mumble mumble."

"NO! She is married...has been for 8 years!"

The doctor and the nurse came in with huge smiles. After the exam, as I left the office, the entire staff wished me luck and "quick conception." I guess it's pretty unusual for a near 28 year old, who has been married for 7 years to actually PLAN and go about baby-making in a seriously mature and responsible fashion. (LOL...they don't know us very well.)

I had been told that since I had been on the pill for so long (since the beginning of marriage) that I would take 6-12 months to end up preggers. Time ticked very loudly in my ears, but at least I was OFF the pill. That was Labor Day weekend in 1998. I confirmed pregnancy on October 10th. YEA ME!

I called my folks...the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm an only child. My parents had been subtly asking about grandkids for years...and had finally stopped. When I called, I about died of embarrassment. (For the record, I felt color shade my face EVERY time I told my father I was pregnant. I mean, you don't have to be a genius to know HOW one gets pregnant do you? Well, I guess in this day and age you can question, but still.)

I called and said, "Daddy, it looks like your little girl is going to have a baby in June." There was nothing but silence for a VERY LONG 5 seconds. Then he said, "Here's your mom." He wanted to see her face when I told her. I asked her if my dad was OK. She said that he was, but he was looking at her funny. I said, "Well, it's probably because he just found out I'm pregnant." She screamed then I heard Daddy say, "I'm going to the other phone!" Such excitement.

Everything went well...no sickness, no high blood pressure, no serious issues, AND I only gained 22 pounds. Not too bad, huh? DH's best friend says I looked like I was smuggling basketballs. You couldn't tell by seeing me from the back that I was "in a family way." I loved EVERY BIT of my pregnancy....then came my due date.

Came and went!

My doctor examined me and said I was a whopping 1 cm dilated (this was a Tuesday) and he said that he would induce on Sunday if I hadn't popped. Well, some advice from family told me that I could jump start things. I was in summer school. I had to talk to my instructor about missing the last week of summer session (quite a lot to miss in summer) but we got it worked out. So, on the 24th, we decided that I would follow the advice.

So (and I have a rigor just retelling this) I mixed about 4 tablespoons of castor oil with a small jug of OJ. Let's just say it was a very "pulpy" juice as the globules of oil slid down my throat. PRETTY NASTY! Not only that, but it left an oily residue on my lips that I tasted for a bit. I know, I know.....but you know what? I was THE MOST cleaned out person in NM! (very important for someone who fears pooping on the table)

This was at about 4:15 p.m. By 11:15 that night, I had to run to the little girls room. I didn't wake my hubby or my mother. I just got off the floor. (HA! I should go on about how my hubby was mean and made me sleep on the floor, but that would be mean. Actually, we DID sleep on the floor for the last 6 weeks because I was TOO HOT anywhere else. We slept right in front of the window unit, on high, with a ceiling fan. DH slept in long jammies and had a sleeping bag and extra blanket. I slept in any t-shirt big enough to cover my belly and that was it. You could hang meat in my house.) SO, I got off the floor and did my business at 11:15, then 12:30 a.m., then 1:00 a.m. By 2:30, I finally considered the possibility of my being in labor.

Now pooping on the table was not my only fear. No...bigger than poop was false labor. I DID NOT want to be sent home. I got out my "What to Expect When You're Expecting" book and read on labor signs. It said to walk the floor. Well, after 30 minutes of walking the floor and stopping, stooping over and breathing through a cramp did I decide that perhaps I should go to the hospital. SO, we woke my mother, grabbed my bag, and all went to the hospital.

Where I had my little guy was in NM...the sticks. They are pretty backwards. Not nearly so much as the deep south, but still pretty jacked. They had no drugs...NO DRUGS!!! I did know this beforehand and I had a wonderful attitude about it. I knew it would hurt, but I am woman, I am tough, I could do it. I did....ONLY because I had to. It hurt. It hurt bad. And that's all I have to say about that.

My beautiful son was born at 11:31 a.m. on June 25. He was 6 pounds 10 ounces...and absolutely perfect. Today he is a blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk of 8 year old. I'm so proud of him. He is in Royal Rangers and Junior Bible Quiz. He plays the piano. He is super smart...I brag, but I am not making this up. He taught himself to read at 4. He spelled his name at 2. (And his name is quite long.) He is always surprising us with his realizations and rationalizations. He is awesome!

Happy birthday, H-man!

Today you are at church camp with your father. I know that you will be touched by God. You will hear Him just like you have been wanting to. I pray that God uses you for His purpose. I pray that I don't screw that up. I want so much for you, but above all, I want you to be a vessel. I want you to shine with the love that Jesus has for you and for everyone you come into contact with. I pray that you realize how much I love you. I pray that the growing pains we both feel are as labor pains....hard to understand and hard to bear, but the end is the most beautiful and fulfilling thing we can imagine.

I am very proud of you! I love you!

THE SOUNDS OF SUMMER

"I WANT MY WATER SHORTS!" (my 3rd wanting to go swimming)

"Remove Shrek's earwax....$800 dollars!" (the older 2 playing Operation)

"Mommy, can I watch "Tornados?" (that is what we call "The Wizard of Oz")

"LOOK! The babies are sitting together and they're NOT FIGHTING!" (This was truly an "AHA" moment for my older 2.)

"HE DIDN'T SAY 'PLEASE!'" (My oldest voicing out against all injustices of the world!)

"Wanna go take a 'map,' baby?" (My 3rd asked my 4th...he wants to watch a movie on the computer.)

"I WUV OOOOO. OOOOO UH MEEEEEEEEEEE!" (my 4th catching sight of a Barney video)

"Ubba ubba wurl so HIIIEEEEE!" (My 4th singing as he is accompanied by # 2 on the piano playing "Twinkle twinkle little star.")

SLAM!!!! "HEY!" (My 3rd slamming the door in #4's face and #4's response)

"OWWWW!" (who knows? But it probably involves #1 and #2)

"OW....SIGH!!!!!" (My 3rd wanting to go out to play)

This has all happened while I was typing this post! LOL!

I wouldn't change a thing!

How wonderful is my life?

Have a great day!

'NUFF SAID

Got this from a friend. I love it.


Chain Letters

I must send my thanks to whoever sent me the one about rat poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet towel with every envelope that needs sealing.

Also, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gasoline without taking a man along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put "Under God" on their cans.

I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

And thanks for letting me know I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face...disfiguring me for life.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore, and Uzbekistan.

I no longer have any sneakers -- but that will change once I receive my free replacement pair from Nike.

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

Thanks to you, I can't use any one's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

Thank you too for all the endless advice Andy Rooney has given us. I can live a better life now because he's told us how to fix everything.

And thanks to your great advice, I can't ever pick up $5.00 I dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

Oh, and don't forget this one either! I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 47,000 people in the next 47 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:47 PM this afternoon and the fleas from 47 camels will infest your back,causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician...

Have a wonderful day....

Oh yeah, a scientist from Argentina, after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain and sexual activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse. Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.

THE DAYS ARE LONG

The days are long, but the years are flying by too quickly. Each year rages on faster than the one before. Where are they going? Why are they in such a hurry? Why can't things just SLOW DOWN?

Tomorrow....actually, in about 13 hours, my baby will be 2 years old. I don't know where the time has gone. When my oldest turned 2, it took longer. Perhaps because I had a 6 month old, as well. I was just trying to survive. When my 2nd turned 2, I was 5 months preggers with number 3. I was teaching. It went by fast, but seeing as how I always had a baby in the house...or one on the way...well, it went by a bit more slowly. When number 3 turned 2, I was 7 months preggers with number 4. I was still teaching, but I was in a new school. Being totally distracted by life, it seemed that things were just trucking along at a brisk, but totally tolerable pace. Finally number 2 is turning 2. I have been blessed with the ability to stay home since he was born. I have put a second child into school. I have no papers to grade, no plans to write, no tutorials to conduct. I can sleep late (if 7:00 is late) and go to bed late. I don't have to iron my day-to-day clothes. I can go to the store in the morning or go to the park. I have a life of relative leisure. Yet my son, who seems to have been born just yesterday, is turning 2. My heart aches for my baby, who is no more.

His story is quite uneventful, compared to the other 3. He was planned. In fact, when I went in for a checkup before he was conceived, I told the doctor, "I'll be back in September or October when #4 is on the way." The nurse (who was new) laughed like I was a senseless child. But my doctor, knowing how blessed I am with eager eggs, said, "If she says she'll be pregnant in the fall, she will be."

I announced my pregnancy on September 24th.

The only problem I had, in fact, the only problem I EVER had with all 4, was a touch of high blood pressure due to a parent from hell. I know...I shouldn't say that. If you knew this parent, you would realize the spawn of the devil she is.

However, I shan't dwell on the evil memories of my past life. She is no more than a mosquito in a spider web. I shall think of her no more.

ANYWAY, everything percolated along as it should. I was due on June 8. We decided to induce on June 7. My hubby was off for a few days and wanted to maximize on his bonding time. I love my man.

I went in the night before because I had to be prepped. It seems that I was not dilated a bit nor was I thinned out. (Those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about can look this up or ask your wife. :-) ) I was given a sleeping pill so that I might be fully rested for a delivery. Truly, it takes a lot out of you. LOL!!! Besides the obvious.

I woke the next morning at about 7:30 to be induced. At 9:30, my water was broken. At 9:40, I asked for drugs. At 10:15, I was ready to rock and roll. The only thing missing from this wonderful picture was the doctor. He was either on a coffee break, or taking a much needed pit stop. Either way, he was not ready. I sat and waited for about 30 minutes. Thank goodness I had an epidural. Otherwise, somebody else would have had to assume the catching position.

I sat, not feeling a thing, talking to my mother and my husband, while the nurses made sure that things were ready for the doc as soon as he graced us with his presence.

10:45 the good doctor comes in. Now, don't laugh. (Those of you with clean minds will have no clue what is so funny. Those of you who are the demented souls I love will have a good chuckle over this....) The name of my doctor: Dr. Dickey. I do not tell a lie.

Anyway, at 10:45 he comes in, sits on his stool, wheels up, says, "give me a push." One push and no grunts later I ask, "Is that what I'm paying you for?" My baby had been born.

My nurses, being totally fabulous, heeded my request to clean him off first. Yes, I know. I am a terrible mom. I wanted a clean baby. I had already gone through times when a wriggling, goopy child was placed on me. I wanted a clean child. He was my last...I wanted him clean. It took all of 5 minutes for a quick wipe down and I was handed my beautiful, perfect son.

The pediatrician did not need a name tag to ID my child. He looks just like his brothers. He nursed like a champ. He slept well from the get-go.

He was, and is to this day, every body's sweetheart. When I pick him up from the church nursery, the workers have to look for him. It seems that he is so loved that people just take him from room to room to play.

He, like my other sons, is the light of my life. I waited for 34 years for this precious life to become a part of me. I feel so blessed to have him. HE completes our family.

My precious son. I pray that God blesses you even more than He has blessed us. I pray good health over you. I pray that you continue to find favor with people you come into contact with. I pray that your footsteps are guided and that you hear the calling that is on your life.

You are my precious son. I love you! Happy Birthday, Monkey.