August 26: Normal


I keep looking out in the front yard, but no one is there. I almost expect to see people in black standing around. 

Now it's just an ordinary corner on an ordinary street on a rather ordinary day. The whole thing seems surreal.

Like a crazy dream.


August 24: The Day the SWAT Team Hid in Our Lilac Bushes

So.... Ya. 

This was our evening. How was yours?

I noticed the police car when we drove home from school. It was parked a few houses down. As Clayton chased the dog home, he caught wind of the fact that there had been a robbery. I just shrugged and said okay. That's pretty normal on our street lately, and this was just one of a half dozen or so this year; the previous one happened right next door on the Forth of July. Such is life in the city.

God protects us, though, as the houses all around us have been robbed at least once, but ours has never been touched.

When one police car turned into two and I saw them running around the neighbors yard, however, I started to suspect more then a routine robbery investigation. Then I looked out the back and heard them yell that the house was surrounded, and I thought, well, they're certainly not chasing a dog. 

The kids had been outside riding bikes just moments before and saw the cars pull up next door. Eva was still out on the front porch, her bike sitting at the end of the driveway where she left it. I had her come inside and locked all the doors. 

The cops that showed up next were carrying guns that said they weren't messing around, and the kids and I went down the basement for a while. Ben stayed upstairs to find out what was going on. 

Funny enough, I wasn't scared at all. I told Ben to take some pictures outside, and he glared at me. I make photo collages, so priorities, you know. And besides, how many times in a lifetime are there police with assault rifles in your front yard?

Hopefully just once, and hopefully never aimed at us.

The lieutenant told us that we would need to leave the premises, since we were so close, the suspect being right next door. I felt bad for the kids, because although they were trying to cope in their own way, some of them were scared. Men with big guns, masks, and shields were milling about, setting up a perimeter, and standing in our front yard.

We left after dinner and went to get ice cream, because what else do you do when the SWAT team is hiding in your lilac bushes? 

On the way out the door, I

almost

asked if they would pose for a picture with the kids--selfie with heavily armed men, anyone??--but then I thought,

nah...

It's not every day that SWAT is in your driveway, though, so it was probably a missed opportunity.

An officer bent over and pulled the baby's bike out of the driveway as we were pulling out, and that was such a visual for me, seeing the group of them standing there by the toddler's overturned bike.

We drove slowly down the street, past the long line of police cars, past all the neighbors sitting on their front porch. It looked like there was a summer movie event or something with the amount of people watching.

The officer at the end of the street moved the police tape to allow us out, and we could see SWAT set up at the corner drug store, ready to roll out the tank. It would've been cool to have a front row seat to all the action, unless it went south, of course. So we went on our way.

We live a crazy life in this city, but I wouldn't trade it. 

A few hours later they got the guy, and life returned to normal.

August 19: 'Twas the Night Before School


Before now I wasn't ready for school to start. Summer seemed gone in a blink, and we were still having so much fun being together.

But today. 

It started out okay, even with alarms and routine and paperwork looming on the horizon, but they all started unraveling before lunch. There was fighting and arguing, crying and blaming, bickering and smacking. 

And just like that, I was ready. Especially because the forecast in our home did not improve.

When I sat down on the couch tonight, I sighed with relief. Rough day. 

After venting about the day and the children a little, I said to my husband, "I think there's another reason I'm so stressed and cranky--I haven't written anything in a while. My thoughts are constipated."

He laughed a little and glanced my direction, with an expression that affirmed my weirdness, saying, "the funny thing is, you say you haven't written for a while. But 'a while' is probably only five days."

"That's enough time to get constipated." I replied.

He chuckled. Alas, he's stuck with me, so I guess it's either laugh or cry. ;)

So here's to wake-up calls, the morning hustle, quieter days, reinstating nap times, and free-flowing thoughts. Bring it on. 

When Facebook Becomes Your Default



I didn’t realize until I decided to give it up, to take a break for a while. 

Come evening when the world began slow and eyelids started to droop, I decided to put my phone DOWN. Enough is enough. 

And that’s when I noticed it. The quiet moments. The precious lulls in time I had rushed to Facebook to fill. 

As I lay in my bed that night, phone firmly placed on the nightstand instead of my palm, I honestly wondered to myself: well, now what do I do? What do I do with these slivers of time before sleep that are no longer spent staring into a 4.7in window?

Sad, but completely true.

And I began to wonder, if we are compulsively running to Facebook (or Twitter or Instagram or games or Netflix binges or anything else, for that matter) throughout the day…

When do we think?

When do we pray?

When do we listen to the still, small voice of God, if we give every quiet moment over to Facebook?

When do we read, something other then articles about the latest shooting or the 9 Signs You May Have a Leaky Gut or 5 Ways to Repurpose Baby Food Jars? I would read all those kinds of things, thinking I was informing myself and somehow improving my quality of life, but in reality, all I did was add to my already existent health anxiety and create more mental work for myself. 

Repurposing baby food jars? Ain’t nobody got time for that. Seriously.

When do we read, say, the Bible, or something that qualifies as real literature to enrich our lives?

When do we connect with our family without distractions?

When do we stop and listen to the tall tales of a two year old, however crazy sounding they may be, and get an uninterrupted glimpse into her creative little mind?

When do we roll down the window in the car on a summer drive and simply take in the smells of fresh cut grass and charcoal grills, notice the wildflowers, and feel the warm sun on our face, if we never look up?

When do we really talk with our husbands, after the kids are all asleep, so in ten years we still have a clue about the person sitting next to us on the couch?

Because if we're honest about it, there are things that steel our time—reinforce it, build it up, make it better and stronger and firmer, in the Lord and in relationship with others; encourage talents and gifts; help others—and there are things that steal our time—rob us of precious moments, productivity, and sleep that we can never get back.

We only have so much time here, so much time this day, and it’s so easy to waste it. It’s so easy to waste it without even wanting to because it’s become a bad habit.

Laundry that doesn’t get folded, craft supplies that never turn into gifts, books collected that never get finished. That’s just me, and that’s really just the beginning.

I know God is calling me to better things, more fruitful things. Things that I really do want to spend my time on, except I keep getting tripped up by the easy, the available. So Facebook will no longer be my default, and we are parting ways, at least for a time. I may deactivate my account sometime in the near future, but for right now it will just sit idle, collecting notifications.

Instead of checking Facebook at stoplights, waiting to turn left, I'll focus on the road and talk to my kids.

Instead of pulling out my phone in the evening or multitasking during Netflix, I'll look my husband in the eye and talk to him about things that matter.

Instead of plugging in during bath time, I'll sit and watch my kids play.

I'll sit on the front porch, enjoy the breeze, and marvel at the fact that everyone but the baby can ride a bike without training wheels now. I'll wonder where the time has gone and make sure from here on out that I'm not too distracted to notice it slip on by.

I'll stop looking so often at a small 4.7in screen that I fail to see the entire world right in front of my face.

I’ll still be here, though, rambling about my usual stuff and posting pictures, so you know where to find me if you need me. I’d love to connect with you all in the comments, through email, or better yet, in person!

I hope you have a great day, and if you want me to know what you had for lunch, what you’re doing with your kids today, or that you’re pissed off at your husband about something, you’ll have to text me, because otherwise, I won’t notice.


And that’s not such a bad thing.

Real Life Doesn't Come with Shortcuts


Sometimes I’m a lot more awesome at things in my head then I turn out to be in real life.

Like that time (last week) when I totally forgot to return our library books for a whole week after they were due, racking up a steep $.10 fee/book/day, while they sat idly on our living room floor and forgot to pay rent. All the while, I had awesome intentions of encouraging reading every day and beefing up comprehension and fluency during what little remains of the summer. In reality, none of it happened and, in fact, negligence has a price: it's about $35 dollars, to be exact. Ben says we just can’t go to the library anymore.

Sadly, we don’t live in a Lego Movie, and everything is not awesome all the time, which is just as well, actually, because those little ¼ in. x ½ in. cubes don’t leave any room for curves. We women would have about as much definition as a piece of lumber.

I also have this closeted ambition to learn the Just Dance moves to all the latest songs (and be really good at it, too, of course). I have visions of busting those bad boys out at a wedding and stealing the show to the shock and amazement of the onlookers, although writing that last sentence is the closest I’ll ever get to that reality due to my introverted tendencies. Then there’s the little issue of those dance moves requiring some coordination and rhythm while you execute them, and whenever I attempt to practice, it always ends up being a lot harder then it looks.

Or the time I tried positioning myself into a headstand after I had been diligently working out for several months. I figured, although my abs were still slightly hidden under a wee food baby (for warmth during the frigid spring weather, of course), that they were, presumably, strong enough to lift my lower extremities to the sky. So I assumed the position, head firmly planted on the ground supported by my arms, butt straight up in the air, and toes pointed on the ground, ready for ascension. Only when I went to lift my legs with my very well-trained abdominals, they wouldn’t budge. It was as if they were made of concrete and I was a tiny mouse, who foolishly imagined, for a minute, she had the strength of a forklift.

And then there’s the day I totally wiped out on my kitchen floor… Apparently, coordination is a pipe dream and exists only in the space between my ears.

Don’t look for shortcuts to God. The market is flooded with surefire, easygoing formulas for a successful life that can be practiced in your spare time. Don’t fall for that stuff, even though crowds of people do. The way to life—to God!—is vigorous and requires total attention. {Matthew 7:13-14}

And I think so often my issue is this: I want the end result without the daily labor in the trenches. But the end is the result of daily labor in a lifetime of trenches.

I want to wake up one morning and somehow, by osmosis, have morphed into an organized, efficient yogi with enviable dance skills. Maybe a decent writer, too, while we’re at it. For that to work, however, I think I would have to stow people with all of those talents under my pillow for the night, so if you know of anyone who would be up for the challenge, send them my way. Because that’s not at all awkward or creepy.

That’s our culture though, isn’t it?

Drop 20 pounds in 7 days with this new mystery pill combination. It will only cost you a lifetime monthly subscription, but look at the whopping five people in equally mysterious weight-loss photos that it has worked for in the past. Results guaranteed(ish).

Article after online article that promise to turn your life, marriage, dating streak (or lack thereof), or financial situation around in 7 dummy-proof steps.

Get the latest this, the newest that, the trendiest color, the raise, the car the girl, the house, the job, and you’ll finally be better/happy/successful/fulfilled/complete, etc.

And sometimes, we are so desperate for a little Hope, just a little thread to grab onto that whispers the promise of change blowing in the wind, of the pit we find ourselves in suddenly not being so deep as to engulf us completely, but rather one that we could just step right out of if we had the right gimmick. The latest scheme.

Sometimes the pain is so deep that we reach for the quick Band-Aid instead of the healing salve, the deep tissue restoration. The Band-Aid, although it works for a time, is bound to lose the adhesive and fall off. Or worse, like a durable fabric Band-Aid left on too long, it adheres inseparably to the perfectly healthy dermis underneath and rips it off during the removal process, leaving fresh wounds in its place.

We forget, in our “get it now” culture, with the internet at our fingertips and multiple fast food restaurants, drug stores, supermarkets and malls within a short driving or walking distance, that the good things require us to wait. The things that are true, noble, praiseworthy, the things that are worth a lifetime of pursuit, require just that. The snippets of each day where you spend your valuable, fleeting time are going to add up to your life, your legacy.

As for me, I'd like to be able to say more for myself then I got really good at checking Facebook. You know, I was awesome at finding the lulls during my day where I could sneak in some extra screen time, and man, I could scroll down that Newsfeed like a boss. Or hey, I have 100,000 pins on a myraid of boards on Pinterest, none of which I ever even look at or utilize, because, you know, I'm too busy. Pinning.

Let's face it: there are some things that don't add to your life in the least but suck up your valuable time more efficiently then a Kirby vacuum. 

Knowing the correct password—saying ‘Master, Master,’ for instance—isn’t going to get you anywhere with me. What is required is serious obedience—doing what my Father wills. I can see it now—at the Final Judgment thousands strutting up to me and saying, ‘Master, we preached the Message, we bashed the demons, our God-sponsored projects had everyone talking.’ And do you know what I am going to say? ‘You missed the boat. All you did was use me to make yourselves important. You don’t impress me one bit. You’re out of here.

These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit—but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock. {Matthew 7:21-25}

In the end, many will find that it’s not the tasks that were important, but the relationships. Jesus will say to many who did good things, even great things in His name: You missed the boat. I never knew you.

There’s no shortcut to building a solid relationship. It takes time, effort, intentionality, and perseverance. Every day. Don’t let Satan steal your future with false promises of life and hope found somewhere other then Jesus today. There’s no quick fix to reach a depth attained by a lifetime of daily snippets. It’s not possible. But the pursuit of such a relationship with Jesus is worth your life, because in the end, it’s the only thing that matters. And it’s never too late to start.