I have to make it through today.  I know I can, but there is so much to do… both at work and at home… because tomorrow, I’m Dollywood bound.

Not that Dollywood is at the top of my list of places I’d like to go when I have the day off, but I have the priviledge of chaperoning the high school photography class on a field trip to take people shots… I call it shutter stalking, but whatever… it’s a trip.  With Thing 1.  AND my mom!

When I found out about the trip, I called her up and invited her over and she’s coming!  She only lives a little over an hour away.  And I haven’t seen her since FEBRUARY! The list in the classroom for our group says, “Mrs. St.Clair and Mom” and I think Thing 1 said there were about six kids in our group.  We are all so excited, although I would venture to say that my mother and I are 10 times more excited than Thing 1.

The last time we were all at Dollywood (and we were together) was almost 15 years ago… Thing 1 hadn’t even celebrated his first birthday yet.  We have a picture of him where you put your face in the hole and it’s a monkey and it says “A Face only a mother could love.”  We’re hoping that sign might still be there so we can shove his face in there and snap another picture.  (Yes, I said shove.  Do you think he’ll willingly do this in front of all of his friends? Heh.)

Those kids are going to have a blast as my mom and I are the COOLEST chaperones.  EVER.

The downside of the trip is that we will need to wake up at 3:30 AM and leave at 4:00 AM to be to the school and on the bus by 4:30 AM… a 5ish hour bus ride will allow me to sleep a little, but…

Well, I just won’t worry about the downside…. because the upside outweighs it!

At the end of the day, instead of packing up and heading back to Roanoke with the rest of the class, we’re going home with my mom!  (By way of the Hobby Lobby!  And since we have no Hobby Lobby here, I’m so excited!)

The hubs and additional things will be down Friday after work so that we can spend the weekend.

So off of here I go so that I can finish the laundry, pack, work, coach a ball game, and get in bed relatively early tonight… not that it will matter.  I won’t sleep for fear that I will oversleep and we’ll miss the bus…

How about you?  Any big plans for Memorial Day weekend?  Traveling or sticking close to home?

Until next time…

“If you’re not going to get up to the alarm clock when it goes off, quit setting it,” I faintly heard the hubs tell Thing 3 yesterday morning.  Truthfully, I was glad he said it, because while I felt that way, I didn’t want to be the one to say it. For two reasons… (a)I don’t get up right away either (although I at least hit snooze!) and (b) I’m not one to discourage any child to get themselves up in the morning with an alarm.  After all, the hubs and I won’t be around after they move out of the house to wake them up.  Unfortunately, none of them have reached that stage.  They all talk about.  They all, at one point in time or another, have attempted it.  But when it comes right down to it, they rely on us to wake them up.

In order for us to wake them up, that means I have to get up, and that is always a struggle.  For whatever reason, I find it impossible to go to bed when I should.  There’s always something going on, or something that I feel like I’ll miss if I go to bed early.  Therefore, I get less sleep than I probably need, and I find myself a zombie in the morning.  But let’s be real.  I’ve NEVER been a morning person.

But I know that there’s no one to wake me up and therefore, take precautions make sure that my alarm wakes me up in the morning.

As in there are multiple alarms.

And they are all different sounds.

The first alarm to go off is the sound of ocean waves.  When the hubs got me a fancy alarm clock that I can hook my ipod up to and displays pictures of whatever I want, I was in awe of all the things it could do.  I decided that I wanted to wake to something peaceful, something that, since it was the first alarm, wouldn’t jar me from a peaceful sleep.  So the waves go off first.

I’ll be honest, I rarely hear them right away.  We’re either 5 minutes into the waves before I hit the snooze button, or they automatically go off when alarm #2 goes off.

Another feature of the alarm clock that does everything except the dishes is that I can have up to 3 fun alarms… as in I could record the kids screaming at me to get up… or my husband lovingly whispering “it’s time to rise beautiful.”  (That wouldn’t be realistic though as he’s just as much of a non-morning person as me and we typically know to avoid one another…therefore, if that’s what I heard in the morning, I would assume I was dreaming and not wake up.)  All that to say, I have utilized one of the fun wake-ups to play “Good Morning” by Mandisa in the morning.  I also felt that this would wake me to the sound of someone who was excited about the morning and a Christian song and perhaps make me feel a little better about getting up.

I hear this one just fine when it goes off at 6:15am, but I chose to hit the snooze button.

At 6:25, it goes off again… “Good Morning!  It’s a brand new day!  I hear the bird singing, I hear the alarm ringing… get up! get up! yay!” sings Mandisa.

I slap that snooze button again and I might murmur that Mandisa should shut up while attempting to figure out why in the world I would want something so freaking peppy in the morning.

And at some point in time after this alarm and before the next is when Thing 3′s “beep beep beep” alarm goes off across the hall.

Now, at 6:30… my cell phone alarm goes off.  It’s supposed to be Mandisa again, however, I NEVER remember to turn the app on before I go to bed, so what happens is this loud horn, honk sound goes off and for a moment, I can’t remember why anything is honking in my house or how to turn it off.  Sliding my finger across the phone to make it stop is difficult when you’re not awake, don’t want to be awake, and suddenly wish it WERE Mandisa singing nicely to you to telling you it’s a brand new day.

This alarm is important for two reasons — It’s the alarm that saves me if I accidentally turn Mandisa off instead of just snoozing her AND that fancy dancy alarm clock?  Because it’s digital and technological, some times, in the middle of the night, it’s freezes.  And then?  There are no waves… no Mandisa… and if the cell phone alarm didn’t go off?  I’d have kids late to school, I’d be late for work, and no one would be happy at my house.  (Another reason it would be nice to have someone else in the house who arose to their own alarm clock!  Then we would have each other’s backs in case an alarm failed to sound.)

After the jarring alarm from the cell phone, I typically tell the hubs it’s time to get up.  I’m convinced that he doesn’t hear any of the alarms prior to that as he never moves…

I will be honest in that I have a fear of sleeping through an alarm.  In my mind, it’s okay for me to sleep to the last possible minute and be running late for work, but it’s not okay to sleep through an alarm and be late for work.  One indicates lack of responsibility and the other not.  Heh.

Regardless, the alarms sound… we all rise (maybe not shine)… and go about our day.

The next alarm sounds to let us know there are five minutes until the kids need to leave for the bus… and after they leave, when I do laundry blog or read or catch up on Facebook, another alarm sounds for me to get ready for work.

Alarms are a necessary evil.  And until the day comes when I don’t have to be anywhere at a certain time, I guess they’ll continue… and with that, the 7:45 alarm to get ready for work is ringing….

How about you?  How many alarms go off in your house?

Until next time…

Heather

Saturday, I slipped away to Joann’s for a few minutes.  I had a 60% off coupon and knew exactly what I wanted to use it on… fusible fleece.  It seems like a boring purchase, but at $8/yard, I wanted to stock up so that  I had it.  I use it for my placemats and I was out.

I have reached the point where I’m afraid to look at the next few weeks, but excited just the same for the excitement that comes with it.  I’ve been trying to find time to get down to the craft garage to make placemats for the spring as I still have Easter ones on the table (I’ve turned them over, so they’re just purple now… but it doesn’t match at all), but there just hasn’t been time.  Ball season does that to us…

I have a short week at work this week as I’m accompanying Thing 1 on a field trip to Dollywood with his photography class.  Mom is coming over and hanging with us and then instead of coming back to Roanoke?  She’s taking us home with her.  I’m excited not only about spending time with my mom, but on the way home from Dollywood, we pass right by the Hobby Lobby.  I’ve only been once, but I fell in love… The hubs will bring the rest of the children down with him Friday after work and Mom and I will sew while the hubs and my dad entertain the children.  They will play rake ball (a game my dad made up that mirrors hockey slightly) and roll golf balls down the driveway, over, under, and around obstacles that they set up.  They will also fish.  My husband is probably equally excited about this trip.

But home from Tennessee on Monday and we’re in the throws of the end of the school year, end of the ball season, women’s retreats, and the grand finale of the next 3 weeks is Bible Boot Camp — that would be our VBS.  And I would be the director.  It’s a little early this year, but I know that we can make it happen.

It’s just a question of whether or not I will have any hair when it’s all said and done.

I’m sure I will.

And then I’ll mutter something about never doing it again…

But I will.

But once VBS is over and the ball equipment put up for the season, summer begins.  I have no commitments this summer short of my normal nursery duty at church.  There are no girl scouts.  There’s no baseball.  Or softball.  Or cheerleading.  I can come home from work and head to the craft garage… or I can sit on the couch and watch TV (our newest show is Revenge…thanks to Netflix, I can be a late comer to the party.)  I can weed the garden or just sit in the evenings and watch the chickens… you’d be amazed at the entertainment they provide.  We can continue to read in the evenings.  (Thing 3 is WAY into “To Kill a Mockingbird” right now and we are loving it!)

Perhaps, even, I can keep ontop of my house… and the laundry…ball season wreaks havoc on the house…

And while there is a revolving door on the house for the children who come and go (there are only 3 weeks this summer that we will have all 4 children at the same time), I’ll be here… just enjoying life.

Which I think is a pretty good plan for summer.

And who knows…. maybe I’ll even have the Easter decorations down by then.

Until next time…

Every Thursday at work, I hop over to the kitchen to see if there are any leftovers from the Fellowship Meal the night before.  Some days there are and some days not, but we always check.  She’s a good cook… and we’d hate to let that wonderful food go to waste. (Besides, I can assure you it’s better than whatever on-sale, frozen, diet meal I brought with me.)

Yesterday was no different.  We took a break about lunch time and headed over.  In the fridge I found a plate that was already made up with last night’s adult meal and a container filled with 2 hot dogs.  “You go ahead and eat this,” I said, pushing the plate toward her, “I’ll just eat these left over hotdogs that the kids had last night.”

I warmed up both hotdogs, adorned them with just ketchup as I normally do, and after she heated her plate up, we headed back up to the office to continue on with our work.

About 30 minutes later, the hot dogs settled nicely in my tummy, I hear our custodian walk in to the work  room and begin talking to the office volunteer.

“Did you happen to see my hotdogs in the fridge in the kitchen?” he asked her.

About that time, I began to melt.  I felt the heat come over me, the blood come into my face as I realized what I had just done.

Knowing that I couldn’t play it off.. because (1) it’s not the RIGHT thing to do and (2) there are only 4 people who work at the church and who could’ve possibly done something with his hotdogs, I poked my head around the corner and said, while raising my hand, “I do.”

I attempted to play it off with humor as I do in every other situation I’m uncomfortable in, but as I said, “I ate them,” I felt like the world’s worst person.  I apologized all over myself.  I offered him my lunch, a frozen dinner, I had brought, but he didn’t want it.

“Just so you know,” he began, “I always put my lunch in some kind of container in the fridge.”

I knew that.  But leftovers were in containers, too, and it never dawned on me that it might be his.  Never.  In all the Thursdays that we’ve headed over to check out the leftovers.

I felt horrible the entire afternoon.  He refused to allow me to get him some food, and of course, those in the office, as I would expect of them, kidded me all afternoon.  I made fun as well, but I still felt bad.

And so… lesson learned.  (1) I should probably just stick to the meals that I bring that are healthy for me and Weight Watchers approved and (2) if I’m going to deviate, check to see what was on the kids menu before assuming that’s what they ate…

Wednesday night?  They had fish sticks… not hotdogs.

Until next time…

I have often heard, from many, that I have good kids.  And, I’ll agree with them.  I do have good kids.  On the whole.

Does it make me a bad parent to add that stipulation in there?  ”On the whole?”

One of my children isn’t speaking to me right now.  Because chores weren’t done I took away a prized possession for a 24 hour time period.  When the hubs and I came back from our walk last night there was a note that was addressed to him and then proceeded to tell him about the phone messages, the fact that the chores were now done, and that I would be spoken to after 24 hours.

Part of me wants to dance and scream and shout, “YES! I’m doing my job!” and be glad that I’m not going to be spoken to because that means, even if just for a brief moment, I’ve gotten through.

But then there’s the other part of me… the people pleaser… the one that can’t stand the fact that someone is mad at me and it’s my fault.

I continually try to  make sure the former is on top on my thought closet but it’s hard — my brain just goes a million miles a minute….

And that’s just for one kid… during a one hour time period… there are FOUR of them… and 24 hours in a day!

I think I want for my kids what most people want for theirs… to grow up to be fully functional members of society…

But oh mylanta!

How in the world will I survive to get them there?

Until next time…

By the time you’re reading this, I’m probably back in Miami and working my way off the boat… and to the airport…

We’ll be home tonight after dinner and we’ll hit the ground running tomorrow morning.  Upward basketball (I’m now the coordinator!) in the morning and a Valentine’s Banquet tomorrow night at church.  I always have a great time, but as usual, I’m rethinking the over booking of myself…back when the cruise was MONTHS away, it didn’t seem like a lot.  Now?

Oh well.

I know that it will be great to be back at my home church… with my church family… telling them about the cruise.

it won’t be as hard getting me there as it was to get me to give in 5 years ago…

here’s the conclusion of my story…. thank you if you’re still with me… (and especially if you’ve heard it before!)

Originally posted May 30, 2008

One night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt like I was having an arm wrestling match with God and I gave in. Not that it’s a bad thing… but I said that prayer… and then I told Lisa and then I emailed Pastor Man.

This is what I wrote….

So MySpace isn’t the avenue that I would normally pick for this, but I’m on my laptop and not with my address book…at least I know where to find you….

We talked two weeks ago. In the time since, I have read more of the Bible than I ever have in my life. I’ve been to church; I’ve journaled; I’ve prayed…man have I prayed….

I’ve attended Bible studies and prayer groups. I’ve done well at doing the right thing (I think — and it’s been said that I have by others) — I’ve been working on rghting wrongs, etc. But I never said that prayer…don’t ask me why and Lisa and I have gone over and over why I am “fighting it” and it’s not that I am fighting it — it’s more that I didn’t feel that I needed to.

I’ve asked her questions, and to be honest, I know God has to be in her when working with me because any other human would’ve told me to take a hike by now.

But also in this time I have felt more out of sorts than I have in a long time — I cry at the drop of a hat — like tonight at Deal or No Deal — who cries at Howie?????

I cry for no reason — but here’s the thing Pastor Man — I really have no reason to cry. (well, I do, but I don’t — work with me here….) My bills are paid, I have money, I have my health, I have friends, I have family, I have my children, I have a roof over my head, I have food on my table, I have heat — there are times in my life that I couldn’t say that I had all of those. So….how come I feel that I am lost and alone? Well, I think I figured all this out…and it has to do with that prayer…and I think I’ve been hesitant because I don’t fully understand — I was raised differently in that this “saved” thing isn’t the norm for me…it’s different — and I don’t know what I’m going to do about a church — but here’s what I know….I can’t do this anymore…

Now Lisa says it’s a spiritual struggle and that God is working on me – Great! I need work, but I CAN’T keep going on like this…I feel like God and I are having this arm twisting game and I’m ready to say Mercy! Is that wrong? I don’t know….

So here goes….I’m rambling…I said that prayer. I sat here in my bed, tears in my eyes, and decided that I had nothing to lose — but that I just can’t do this anymore. (You are probably thinking that I am the biggest basketcase…but that’s okay….)

Now, Lisa says I have to go public with it and when she said that I almost said “then i take it back” — see I don’t do public with my inner most thoughts and feelings and that goes for my prayers too…so what does this mean? We don’t do this at the church that I go to…and I’m just so confused about it all. So she says “Tell Pastor Man” — aren’t you the lucky one…..

But I know two things. I can’t go on by myself anymore and I want a relationship with Jesus. I want what you all have.

So I’m rambling with all of this because she said that I should get together with you and make it “public” but I was afraid that I would forget everything that I am feeling at this moment — so you’re getting it in a myspace email.

So now what? Now what do I do? I’ve accepted Jesus Christ into my life and my heart.

Where do I go from here?

Heather

PS. I somewhat had it together tonight and I was reading the last blog entry that you did…the one about the Fear of God – not only was it powerful, but I took it to be a sign — a sign from God. See the only other time I heard about the Fear of God being wisdom was in December. I was at a bar playing trivia in Coloumbia, MO. There was one table that got the question right, but none of us could figure out how anyone got it right seeings how the “Godly” people would’ve been at church and not in a bar on a Wednesday night….

PPS. I am so sorry I ramble… 

I’m still a dork! ☺

On February 15, 2007, I became a Christian. My life hasn’t been the same since.

The story doesn’t end here… because as time has gone on, God’s fingerprints become more and more obvious.

Remember Lisa? The one that was going to be a Biblical coach? Yeah… she decided, or rather, God revealed to her that she wasn’t supposed to be coaching but that she should be writing and has since startedPotty Prayers (you’re just going to have to go check it out to find where it got its name!) and simply His blogger. Aren’t I lucky that for a brief period of time she thought she wanted to be one? Two months after I committed my life to Christ, I finally had the chance to meet Lisa and family and even got to attend church with them. Last November, she traveled to see me share my testimony with my congregation that day that I became a member of the BEST.CHURCH.EVER. I’ve also had the pleasure of being a youth leader and have seen not only several members of our youth come to know Christ, but my own two children as well.

And remember how Matthew was adamant about how he didn’t want to play basketball? If he hadn’t, I would’ve never come in contact with my church. Not ONCE did Samara cheer there.

And one night I asked Matthew why he decided to play after pitching a fit that he didn’t want to. After prying it out of him, he revealed that he didn’t think he could play, but that day in the gym he shot the ball and made a basket. He gained some confidence that maybe he could play. Can’t you see Jesus taking hold of that ball as it left Matthew’s hands and depositing it in the hoop?

Nothin’ but net! Praise God!

I don’t have less problems since becoming a Christian and in some ways I feel as if I’m tested more. But I have a game plan. I have a helper. I am walking side by side with Jesus. And I’m okay.

So, you see, it’s not so ordinary after all. When God’s involved, it’s extraordinary!

We’re at sea today…on the tail end of the vacation.  I don’t know what the hubs and I will get into today.  Probably not the pool… at least I won’t.  Unless it’s 90?  Nope.  The forecast is calling for upper 70s.  Not that I’m complaining.

I do know that I plan on sleeping in.  (Unless, of course, there are dance lessons.  When I went on a cruise when I was 17, my brother and I took dance lessons every day.  I loved them.  I convinced the hubs to take them if they were offered.  It’s the only thing that might make me arise early on the LAST day I can sleep in for over a week.)

I tried to sleep in a little over 5 years ago.  I’ve always loved my sleep.  But that’s not what happened…

On to part 4 of my story…

Originally posted May 29, 2008

We talked for nearly two hours in his office.  I can’t tell you what all about as I don’t honestly remember.  I know that I said to him that I thought it was cool that a Pastor had a MySpace page.  (because, you know, when you’re looking for someone to bare your sould to, they should have a MySpace page).

I know that I felt at ease and I admitted to him that I could see something in these people, these people at the church where Matthew played ball.  I wanted what I saw.  I wanted him to tell me that I could just order a dose online or something, but he didn’t.  He told me about these people, about the church, about his life… about his mother, a single one at that… who raised four boys.  He told me the things she did right, and the things that she could’ve improved on.  He was so open, honest, and genuine.

But then he asked me if I was ready to let Him help and I said, “If I not there already, I’m close.”

Silly answer, no?  He knew (as he admitted) that I didn’t like to be pushed and he didn’t push.  And I am ever so grateful as if he would’ve pushed, I would’ve walked out and never come back.  But he was real.  He was honest.  He didn’t put himself above me because he was a Pastor and I wasn’t even a Christian.  But more than anything?

He listened to me.

I came home and talked to Lisa some more.  She gave me Bible verses to read and write about.  She told me to journal, at least 3 pages every day.  Not on the computer… no!  I had to handwrite these thoughts.  Having no other options, I did what she said and talked to her about things.

Pastor Man invited me to church on Sunday.  I told him that I would think about it.  The reality of it was, I had to talk it over with Lisa first.  This church was different.  This wasn’t what I was used to.  Part of me felt like I was cheating on the Episcopal Church because I was going to go to a Wesleyan Church, which is stupid, because I wasn’t going to church at all.. so what did it matter?

After talking to Lisa at length, I told her that I would go.  The kids would be with their dad so I wouldn’t have to worry about them in a strange service and freaking out because these people put their hands in the air when they worshiped.

Saturday rolled around and my friends were all going out.  Downtown.  To a bar.  And I was going.  I was excited.  I told Lisa before I went that I was going to go to church the next day.  I told everyone at the bar that I was going to church the next day.

Yes, as I downed whatever sissy beer I happened to have been bought, I exclaimed that I was going to church.  I’m sure it was a sight.

But when I rolled in the door at 5am, drunker than a skunk and looked at the clock I determined that there was no way in Hades that I was going to church.

I didn’t set the alarm.  In my drunken stupor, I figured that if I was up in time, I would go and if I didn’t then they would be there next week.  After all, what’s one more week?  I’d already missed several already.

At 8am I was awake.  And when I say awake?  I mean WIDE AWAKE.  I couldn’t get back to sleep and tried every bed in the house and the couch trying to get back to sleep. I was tired.  I was hung over. I wanted to sleep.

At 9, when it just wasn’t happening I got up and putzed around the house.  I contemplated going to church.  The reality of it was, I didn’t want to go.  I was afraid, which, at that time, which is how I lived my life — Afraid of everything… taking the car to get inspected, afraid to open the mailbox, afraid to leave the house.  I tried my hardest to talk myself out of it but didn’t really want to tell Lisa that I didn’t make it to church.  I promised her I would go.

I went to church and let me tell you!  They did things much differently than they do at the Episcopal church!  They have a projector and lively music and people praying and crying and I cried… oh boy did I cry.  And I took notes during the sermon.  I had questions like “How come it was okay for David to kill Goliath when the Bible says ‘thou shall not kill’?”

I wrote them all down on my bulletin so that I could ask Lisa when I got home.  And they were so nice to me.  They made me feel so very welcome.

And when I got home, I sent Lisa a little message telling her that I had been to church.  When she asked me about the night before, I told her all the details, including being wide awake at 8am after being out all night.

What she said next amazed me.  She told me that she prayed for a wake up call so that I would get to church!  Praise the Lord!  I often wonder what would happen if I never made it to church that day.

I decided that I would at least look for a church, an Episcopal church, mind you, because I had it in my head that I needed to stay within that denomination.  I prayed that God make it obvious.

After basketball the next Saturday, as I was leaving, five people said, “See you tomorrow.”  I think that was pretty obvious.  I went.  I cried.  I wrote my questions for Lisa and asked when I got home.

For two weeks we went back and forth on saying this prayer of Salvation thing.  I struggled because it was so different from what I knew and bless her!  She’s got the patience of a saint.  She never yelled at me or gave up on me.  I remember those two or three weeks just being horrible.  I did nothing but cry, read the Bible and pray.  But I just wasn’t going to say this prayer.

I was stubborn.

Happy Jesus Birthday to me…

Happy Jesus Birthday to me…

Happy Jesus Birthday to me in the Bahamas….

Happy Jesus Birthday to me…

It’s not that I’m trying to rub it in that I’m in the Bahamas…. I’m really not.  However, you have to know that while I’m writing this my children are running around the house like banchees and the hubs is joining in and he’s paying no attention to me…so I’m a tad excited to BE there already.

Five years ago today, I gave my life to Christ.  It’s a big day.  I plan on celebrating today while I’m on the island of Great Stirrup Cay.  That’s the island that the cruise ship owns…and again, I hope it’s not raining like the weather said it was going to.

My kids will head to church tonight and Pastor Man will welcome them and uplift them… the same thing he’s been doing for the past five years… and to think… I never even thought he was one!

On with part 3…

Originally posted May 28, 2008

My life was falling apart.

********

Functioning in the full capacity of a mother was tough. I made it through football season despite the fact that my own introvertedness made it impossible to reach out to other people… My pride stood in the way of asking other parents for help with rides to games and the like.

I beat myself up for missing games, even though I only missed them if I was taking the other child to a game, never because I just didn’t feel like going… and I can assure you… there were many Saturday mornings that I just didn’t feel like going.

Football season ended and my father was adamant about getting Matthew involved in another sport. Matthew was not the athlete. To convince him to play football was nothing short of a miracle. He’d wrestled before and didn’t want to do it again…Period. I did sign Samara up for Upward Cheerleading and asked Matthew several times about playing basketball.

Several times he said no. I was in no mood or frame of mind to argue. I let it go.

We took Samara to her first practice… painstaking as it was. I had just made it through watching her cheer during football, and now I had to suffer through yet another season. Please don’t get me wrong, I love to see my children doing what they love, but cheerleading was not my thing. It’s really just a jealousy issue since I was too fat to be one when I was a child. At the end of her practice, I needed to talk to her coach, and Matthew was on the court with a few of his friends from school.

As we walked out of the gym, Matthew excitedly asked me if it was too late to sign him up for basketball. I turned around, walked back in the gym and asked the coordinator if it was too late. Thankfully it wasn’t and I called the very next day and got him signed up.

The church that Matthew practiced at church that I’d never heard of before. It wasn’t the big ginormous church that Samara was practicing at. (No, that would’ve been too easy to have both of my kids practice at the same place.) I got directions and took him. He played. He seemed to like it and then we attended his first game.

I really didn’t know what these Upward games were all about. I did know that they were Christian based and at churches, but that was the extend of it.

And then this man got up and started talking at halftime. I looked at my ex-husband and said, “oh great, we’re going to get preached at.”

And then he introduced himself as the Pastor, and I was all…”Get out! He doesn’t even look like a pastor.” I don’t know what I thought a pastor should look like. I grew up with religious figures wearing black shirts and white collars. I guess I just assumed that was the way that it was everywhere.

Pastor Man stood there and spoke and I don’t even remember what he said. But at the end, he said, “If you’d like to know more, please come find me or Jason.”

I felt compelled to say something to him, but didn’t. There were too many people, I had the kids, and a gazillion other excuses.

About the same time that basketball started, a friend from the business world (enter Lisa B.) announced that she was leaving the Virtual Assistance (VA) industry and becoming a Biblical Coach. She said that she was looking for guinea pigs and because I love to learn, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt, I told her to sign me up. She had me fill out this questionnaire and it said to be honest. So I was.

I cringed sending it to her but her response was only that she was a lot like me and we began to chat online about different things. I opened up about some of the things going on in my life and one day, I just started to cry. And I told her that I was crying. (Keep in mind, all of these chats are via instant messenger on the computer.)

I admitted to her that when the Pastor spoke that day, I felt compelled to talk to him, but that I hadn’t. The next thing I knew, she was giving me a telephone number. It was the number to the church that Matthew played ball at and she instructed me to call and make an appointment to talk to him.

Was she nuts? I don’t know this guy! What was I possibly going to say to him? But she wasn’t taking no for an answer and so I called.

I prayed that no one would answer the phone. My how I prayed. If he didn’t answer, I could just tell Lisa he didn’t answer and then I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.

But he did.

Ah… valentine’s day in the Bahamas.  What could be better?  Hopefully, it’s not raining like the weather forecast was calling for as I wrote this last week.  But even if it is, I’m still in the Bahamas.  On vacation.  Learning that there is life outside of children.

You might find it odd that I say that but kids are my life.  Between our four, did you also know that I’m the nursery director at church?  Every Sunday morning, I’m playing with infants, toddlers, and preschoolers.  During the Summer I’m volunteering or leading a few vacation Bible Schools and I also work with the youth… so my life revolves around kids.

Did I mention there are NO children on this boat?

Kids weren’t as huge in my life five years ago.  In fact, unless they were mine, I wasn’t overly fond of them….

My how God changes things…

Here’s day two of my five part series….

Originally posted May 27, 2008

And so my quest for the perfect Episcopal Church began….

*******

I really did try to find a church. I went a few times, but never found one that we wanted to call home… even though, looking back, many opportunities were put in front of me. There was the church that offered line dance lessons where the people were really nice.

There was the church that a few of the scout families went to and they were really nice too.

There was the church that was just down the street, as in we could walk there, and they were nice.

In fact, I only found one church that wasn’t nice and I say this only because they were very clear in their bulletin that they would not tolerate children making any kind of noise during the service. I didn’t know much about God at that time, but I was pretty sure he loved ALL the little children, even the noisy ones… but if they wanted a quiet church, there was no way that I could bring Samara with me.

I don’t know what it was about any of them other than that they were missing something.  I just didn’t want to be there.  I didn’t FEEL anything and felt that I was forcing myself to be there… just to say that I was there.  In my mind, I wasn’t going to do something just to do something.  So I just didn’t go.

Eleven months after I moved to Richmond, I felt this need to come “home”. Home is such a funny word for me to use since I’m an Army Brat. My parents were no longer in Roanoke, but things just weren’t working out there. That and I met the man that I knew I was going to marry… but he lived here and I didn’t.

So, I moved back to Roanoke and again attempted to find a church home. We attended a few but then would get lax about going and then would feel embarrassed about returning. In an effort to make a commitment to going to church, Matthew made his First Communion and became an Acolyte.

I thought this new level of accountability was just what we needed however, we ended up only going on the Sunday’s that he served and then I would get perturbed because every time we went, someone would welcome me to the church, thinking that I was a visitor. I guess in their minds, I was… but in my mind, I desperately wanted someone to remember me, to know me, to be glad to see me each and every Sunday morning.

And of course, the kids didn’t like that church because Sunday School overlapped with Coffee Hour where the good food was and by the time they were released, it was all gone.

I’ll admit it…I gave up on finding a church because my life was a train wreck and all I wanted to do was sleep. There was no way that I was getting out of my bed on a Sunday when I could lay there and wallow in self pity.

That man that I was convinced I was going to marry? Almost three years we were no longer an item. He moved out.

My father had just broken his three-year silence with me.

My children told me that I was never there for them.

My life was falling apart.

As some of you know, I’m in the Bahamas this week…the hubs and I won a cruise… and today (Monday) we’re in Miami working our way to the ship…this evening, about an hour after we leave the port (the big fancy word is disembark) we’ll be dining with Dennis and Barbara Rainey.  Do you know who they are?  We didn’t.  Or at least we didn’t think we did.  Until we realized that the devotion book that is next to the bed was written by them.  They head up Family Life.  And because we won the cruise, we get to eat with them.

Have I ever mentioned that my husband, as gorgeous as he is, looks like a serial killer when he’s nervous?  Won’t that be nice?  Heh.  (And I totally spelled that cereal to start.)

Anywho, without this story, I don’t know that my husband and I would’ve met, or that we’d be going on a cruise.  So in honor of my 5th Jesus birthday, I’m retelling my story.  I’ve not told it since 2010… and so it’s time.

So here is my story….

Originally posted May 26, 2008

I have a story to tell. But mine is just your ordinary, average, run of the mill story… or is it?

You see, I’m not a drug dealer, alcoholic or addict of any kind. I didn’t come to know Jesus while sitting behind bars. I wasn’t homeless or facing eviction. I was just an average, run of the mill 30-year-old woman struggling to find her purpose in life.

And when I say struggling, I mean struggling. I would flip-flop all over the place, trying different things to see if that one thing would bring me the joy that I so desperately wanted, that I so desperately craved.

I had a career, owned a home, and a car. I had two wonderful children and lived in a good neighborhood. My children were smart and well behaved for the most part (after all, they are kids!). They were involved in sports and I was involved in many things centered around their lives. Including the PTA which, I can assure you , never was or will be my purpose.

I came from a two parent home. My parents were good parents and I lived a good life. Sure, I made some mistakes – we all do but for some reason mine seemed to be worse than every one else’s. Mine seemed to cripple me, forcing me to start all over and try again.

But there was something missing. And I’m not talking a man, although there was one missing…I’m talking something greater. Something that I couldn’t put my finger on, but I knew that it wasn’t there and that it should be. I just couldn’t figure out what it was that was so lacking in my life.

I was raised Episcopalian and we went to church every Sunday. It was important to my parents. When I moved out at the ripe old age of 18, I, of course, knew everything and felt that I no longer needed to go to church. The fact of the matter was that I just couldn’t understand why anyone would schedule a service on a Sunday morning… after all, Saturday night was the best party night. Ever. I never made it to one service while in college although I’m sure in one of my letters home to mom, I mentioned that I had. I thought about it, but I never quite made it. Sleep and nursing a hangover was more important.

I had my first child at the age of 20, and then I married his father. My ex-husband was Jewish so he certainly wasn’t interested in going to church however, we went for the traditional Easter and Christmas and this happened through the birth of our second child, Samara. When we divorced, I moved back home and I went to church every Sunday. Because my parents went and because I was living in their home, I was to go too. I can assure that it was not because I WANTED to go.

I loved the church family there. They were nice and they loved my kids (who wouldn’t) and Father Tom was great. But when I moved away to Richmond, my father said, “Find a church.”

And so my quest for the perfect Episcopal Church began….