Too Cool

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Moderation

Today’s word for reflection today will be MODERATION.

This word does not actually exist in my vocabulary… well… it exists… I just don’t know how to use it.

Example: Today’s challenge was banana bread. Not just one loaf. Oh no--------- can’t do just one! If we’re gonna do something, we are going to go all the way.

First, I must preface this with the explanation that I do not cook. I am seriously unable to function in the realm of the kitchen. So, last night I begin planning (actually the planning started three days ago with a trip to the grocery for flour, sugar, eggs, etc.) Anyway--- I took my bananas from the freezer, carefully counting them; I needed twelve. Did I mention that I don’t do math either? This morning when I went to peel them I was one short. Not surprising. I pop a frozen one in the microwave to thaw, praying that it doesn’t explode.

I make some coffee, crank my radio to some good old rock-n-roll and let the party begin.

I proceed. I figure if I have to go to the trouble of dragging out all the tools for the task I might as well double the recipe.

That was my first mistake.

Does anyone know JUST HOW MASSIVE A NINE CUP pile of flour is???? Add the fact that I can’t add… well… you get the picture.

The recipe said to ‘cream’ the butter & sugar. Cream? What exactly does that mean? Can I do that by hand? Ummm…NO. Now I must rearrange my counter and drag my mixer out (also known as The Devil Machine).

I transfer to the bowl (too small.) I go to the laundry room, drag my ladder out and climb to the top shelf and drag out the Holy Big Red Tupperware Emergency Bowl. Whew!

Mix, pour, grease--- which is a whole other issue--- CRISCO? Really? Who needs hand moisturizer when you have to plunge your hands into the Crisco can. Ewwwwwww.

I mix. I stir. I cuss. I sweat. I look up to Heaven and say ‘Why me, Lord?’ I step back to look at –technical term here- My Massive Bowl of Goo. All I have in my head is the vision of a scene from the Ray Romano show where Frank comes in the room and says “Holy Crap.”

How am I going to get THAT stuff from the bowl into the baking pan? Soup ladle? Measuring cup? Bare hands? The latter is definitely not an option, because I am not touching The Goo.

Finally, I get my courage up, grab a spoon and begin to slop (another technical term) The Goo into the pans. Holy Cow--- not enough pans. Now what? I rummage and find two more. I have to re-plunge my hands into Crisco and repeat the moisturizing procedure.

I now have eight loaves happily baking in the oven with two more waiting their turn.

I post to my Facebook that somewhere long ago there must have been a cave man who told his woman to go out into the wilderness, pick some bananas, grind some wheat, go to the salt plain, build a fire and cook. That man is one lucky dude not to have me as his woman!

Moderation.

Don’t have it, don’t think I ever will. I have two speeds. All or nothing. Happy or sad, black or white, right or wrong, hot or cold. There is no in between. We all have disabilities; some of them are just invisible.

As I sit and write this the aroma of fresh bread wafts through the house. Ah--- life is good. I told myself yesterday for Lent I would give several hours of my day to domestic duties. It’s been frenzy but it is accomplished. I have triumphed over my kitchen. Battle won.

Jesus stands over me this morning, chuckling, I’m just sure of it, as He watches His child in the mad dash of the life of his beloved child. I smile. Let’s just hope I read the recipe correctly and in order and that it tastes good.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Ash Wednesday.

Imposition of Ashes.

Ever, as a child, find yourself playing inside an old, lightening-struck, burned-out, hollowed-out tree? Did you ever wonder how in the heck did that tree ever survive such a catastrophic event? The mere fact that the shell continued to grow with bark, branches and leaves amazed me.

Today I think of that tree, you all know the one… the one with the rope and tire swinging from the lowest branch. That big old maple that sat down at the edge of the field or cow lot; a child’s paradise; the safe haven on a summer afternoon.

I remember taking a running leap at that old tire one day, giving it my all. I charged at that tire with all my strength thinking that when I made contact it would swing me up. Up into the sky and oblivion. Well, that wasn’t meant to be that day. Perhaps it was wear and tear on the rope. Perhaps it was me getting older and bigger and nature was telling me to move on to other things. That rope gave way that day, plunging me face down- smack dab in the dirt. I remember that feeling of having the wind knocked out of me that day, struggling for each breath, gasping and moaning.

Damn tree. Damn rope. Damn tire. Damn me.

I recovered. Embarrassed… even if was only God who saw me tumble that day. That tree on that particular day on the exact day at that very moment. Lesson learned: Always check your life line.

It’s now some 40 years later. I wake up this morning trying to figure out what to give up for Lent. That’s not going so well.

The Lord has thrown me more than my share of lifelines, many more than I ever deserve. He has never given up on me. That rope has never worn thin or frayed. I have, in my humanness. But, the Lord? Never. Always there to pick me up and dust me off and give be a kick in the pants and breath the breath of life back into these sorry old lungs.

So, today I go out into this world, with an outside shell that continues to grow. Today I will walk up to that altar and kneel, receive the ashes that represent the Death that Christ died for us. For our charred, hollowed out interior of sin, darkness and imperfection.

Today begins our 40 days of wandering, traveling with Jesus as he fights the devil and all his evil schemes. We head out into the desert today, another year, and another journey. Thank you Father, for mercies received.

Make me a stronger, more compassionate person this year. Make me more loving and more loveable. Make me your servant. Use me, bend me, break me, mold me, burn me… use me for Your Glory. Amen

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Risk.

The dictionary defines it as: exposure to the chance of injury or loss; a hazard or dangerous chance; (It's not worth the risk.)

Risk, or if we are lucky enough, risks- the plural. Yeah, baby. What are the risks we take? The first thing that comes to mind is getting behind the wheel of the car and wondering if this day is going to be the day that that proverbial Mac truck will come barreling down the highway and crash into me. Yep. That’s me… the worrywart. I have a cross hanging on my mirror so that whoever finds me will know that I am a Believer and they will pray for me.

I also mutter innumerable prayers as I travel… “Lord, keep me safe from harm; Lord, please let no one be in the lane I’m merging into; Lord, keep me in Your care and watch out over my loved ones; etc. etc. etc.” And that only covers the prayers for me.

At night when I lay in bed and I know the kids or the hubby is traveling my mind races with prayers for them. I know their welfare is beyond my control but still I struggle with letting go.

Risk.

What of the risks of the heart? To love anyone or anything is taking risk. To put yourself out there knowing that at some moment in time we will lose the ones we love. That is the cost of loving someone… that payment comes due far too soon in many lives and circumstances.

Risk.

To risk walking away from a situation (the Hubby calls it ‘cutting and running’) is sometimes the most courageous thing one can do. I discovered many years ago that no one in this worldly life will or can take better care of me than myself. Only one person is going to pull my bootstraps up every morning. No one is going to brush my teeth for me, feed me, clothe me, drag my sorry behind into the shower each day.

I’m tired of standing on the outside looking in on relationships. I’m tired of the battle of jealously and envy. I’m tired of the battle of keeping up with the ‘Joneses’. So, I take a risk. I choose not to play that game. I risk relationships because I don’t enable abusive behavior. I cannot count the number of relationship causalities on the highway of life. But I’m getting better. And I hope I’m getting better because I choose to risk becoming ‘Miss Sassy Pants’ to people who choose to say hurtful things.

Every relationship is risky. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s more of an adventure. Life is an adventure, it’s a risk--- a risk that I am willing to take.

Monday, February 20, 2012

There's a streaming video site out in internet world of a pair of nesting bald eagles in Decorah, Iowa. They are amazing to check in on several times a day.

The patience and dedication to their egg is so motivating. It makes me reflect on the years of nurturing our children. The waiting, watching, caring and encouraging that parents do for their children is wonderful to reflect on. Of course, today--- 27 & 24 years later, I know I could have done better... And I could have done a whole lot worse. Hindsight is always 20/20. But I loved every minute of it. Bath time, tea parties, Ty plush babies, Monopoly marathons, Discovery Channel Shark Week, Mercer Mayer Little Critter books, big wheel races, dress up and all the road trips. Those are the intangibles that will never be taken away. We had a collapsable pool in the back yard... We would set up the little tykes slide and hours of fun were had. The magic of Christmas. Making tents out of blankets and chairs.

Watching Poltergeist in the green house. The memories go on and on. Endless (and I do mean endless!) hours of Disney cartoons and movies. Priceless moments forever trapped in memories.

Now they are on their own, each with loves of their own. I keep telling them to enjoy the adventure that life holds for them. I only hope they have as much fun as their daddy and I had!

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Still getting used to navigating... I would like to post a picture each day and perhaps say a few things...

Today... Transfiguration. When Jesus appeared to three of the Disciples in garments that were gleaming, brighter than bright; "in garments that could not be made brighter even if bleached". Now, to us moms out there... that would be bright, indeed.

Pastor asked how we envision Christ. I would have to say that I see Christ as my safe place, a healing place. A place of comfort and completeness. He stands there in all of His Glory extending his arms to me- waiting and welcoming.

I chose the picture of the horizon at Lake Perry today. We constantly stand at a place of separation and a place of joining. Either leading or following, facing each day with love or anger. The choice we make will make us or break us. I visited with a friend this morning and she shared that each day was a struggle. Throughout my years I have tried to learn the lesson of baby steps. One day at a time. We're going to mess up and stumble. We're going to conquer and soar. But at the end of each day as we lay our heads down and (hopefully) say our prayers- Jesus will be standing before us- bidding us a good night.

In the morning we will rise and He will be beside us to carry, encourage, support and comfort us. May we see His Glory each day and treat the people around us with the love and respect each of us deserves.