Double Standard

We are in the process of looking for a 8 passenger vehicle.  Since our family will likely be growing by 1-2 kiddos, a bigger vehicle would be helpful so that we can all ride together when we need to.

No worries though, I get to keep my mini van since most of the time it will be just me hauling around kids.  *all the live long day*  And I'm attached to my van, literally and figuratively.  I'm not ready to say goodbye, and I'm certainly not ready to be parking a beastly vehicle at Target. Or Aldi.  And don't even get me started on drive-thru's.  Seriously, I would be a danger to society.

Anyways.

We've been scouring dealerships and Craigslist.  I've learned a few things.

• Tell friends what you're looking for and BAM they are totally helpful.  
• It's funny, because when we are looking for a vehicle our standards suddenly shoot through the roof.  I mean, we want to buy from that person who maintained their car meticulously.  And the interior?  Well we want that to be super clean even though we're looking at vehicles that are ten years old (because HELLO, SUV=ridiculous $)  Basically, we want to buy from someone that is the opposite of us.  It must be in fantastic shape so that we  can treat it with our usual messiness and it will still last.  Totally logical.
• I sat in a Suburban at a dealership and wanted to cry.  The hood alone is 100 feet long.  
• I'm totally confused at the appeal of SUV's. 
• Whatever magic ingredient is in those SUV's, it's made of money.  One we drove past (while choking) was $73,000.  I can't even.  No words.
• Maybe we should just try to find an old limousine.  And then I could use the privacy window and block out the noise.  Frankly, it seems more practical. 
• When we do finally find one...and on the rare occasion I have to drive it...everyone should just plan on standing back or moving over or whatever you've got to do to stay alive while I'm behind the wheel.  It's like they should require a special license to drive those things.  
• Just kidding, I'm sure it will be fine.  *cough*

Mini Vans rule.  And so do Volvo Wagons (which is actually my dream) but I have too many kids for that.  Some people drive sports cars when they're old.  I'll be in the Volvo Wagon.  

The End.

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Random is What I do Best

So yesterday I mentioned the riveting information about my lost fitbit.  It's really no wonder that in the past 87 days I had gotten emails from strangers that wondered if I would be blogging again.  I mean, who doesn't want to be informed of this interesting stuff?!?

So I have like (literally) four friends on fitbit.  Steph, one of my bestest in real life, is one of those friends.  She's missed me on fitbit this past week because, let's be honest, she missed me making her feel better about herself.  All her other friends are over achievers, and my average of 7,000 steps a day helped make her feel better.  *encouragement is my spiritual gift*  So yesterday we met for lunch at the park and she mentioned how I should get a new fitbit or I should call Walmart and see if someone turned it in last week.  Pfff.  That would never happen.  Even in Iowa.  But, after the park I called the Walmart and asked if someone had turned it in last week.  I described the odd bracelet contraption it was in (because I had been trying to make it less ugly but it turns out less ugly means easily lose-able.)  And the dear lady went and looked for several minutes.  

Annnnd she found it.  

Reunited and it feels so....   eh.  It's fine.  It's a dysfunctional relationship, but Steph is happy so I am happy. *insert smirky smile*

And don't go trying to find me on fitbit...unless you average under 7,000 steps.  Otherwise I will just have to be annoyed with you. :)

In other news.  

Whenever I start something new in life, it tends to dominate my conversations.  And life.  

Insert Foster Care Subject Again.

Someone asked which books I had read in regards to trauma, and I decided it would be good to put them on here because it's helpful.  And it helps me keep track. (each link will take you to the book on Amazon)

Parenting the Hurt Child: Helping Adoptive Families Heal and Grow 

The Connected Child: Bring hope and healing to your adoptive family

Beyond Consequences, Logic, and Control: A Love-Based Approach to Helping Attachment-Challenged Children With Severe Behaviors 

Fostering Love: One Foster Parent's Journey

Two days in a row of blogging.  I shall reward myself with Starbucks.  

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87 Days...

Facebook keeps reminding me that its been 87 days since my readers have heard from me.  And I think, that can't possibly be.  But it's true.  

Let's bullet and catch up and then try not to get so far behind.  

• Tonight we start class 5 of 10 for foster care training.  We've had 1 of 3 home visists by the licensing worker, and everyone we know has been contacted or asked to fill out various paperwork on our charachter and overall well being.  We've filled out a bajillion forms and answered questions that date back to childhood.  Next week, alllll of us go in for physicals to prove that we are healthy enough to foster.   Fun times.  
• I've read four books on my own, all based on parenting kids with trauma.  Can you guess my area of concern?  
• Every week at our training class (which lasts three hours) we have to do group work.  I hate group work.  And class participation.  It's the worst.  #introvertproblems.
• In the past 87 days we have bought a fire extingusher, lock box for medications, a fire escape ladder, and have gotten the bedroom all set up and ready to go.  It's so dang cute.  
• Plans for particular kids have been back and forth and on and off and then on again.  It's a roller coaster that often leaves me feeling sick to my stomach, and impatient.  It's all part of the gig.  I repeat to myself over and over.  And over.  They are worth it.  All of it...even group work, is worth it for the kids.  My "no" is far harder on them than my "yes" is on me.  
• I got that last part from Jason Johnson's Blog.  It's some of my favorite reading material.  If you're interested in foster care, or simply have someone in your life that is involved in foster care, go check it out.  I've learned so much, and I wish I had read it before we got into foster care, because I feel like it would have helped me better support our friends who were doing foster care!  
• There's lots more to our life than foster care.  I promise.  Our kids are growing like crazy.  And man, I just like them.  I often wonder how I got such great people.  It's all by God's grace.  I think I may have always secretly wondered that after they got out of the cute little-kid phase I might find them annoying.  HA.  Again, introvert problems.  But, it turns out they are only annoying a leeetle bit of the time.  It's fun to see them grow and mature.  At the same time, I'm going to have a high school kid next year.  And he's currently in drivers-ed and it makes me happy and sad all at the same time.  
• I got a fit bit for Christmas and lost it last week.  I'm undecided if I'm replacing it.  I wasn't a huge fan of wearing it, and it's constant judging was a tad annoying.  But still.  It's like that dysfunctional friendship you just can't let go of...
• I'm working through this Bible Study and I love love love it.  It's not super dynamic and exciting, which is what people are generally looking for.  It's practical and life changing.  "God's Word is for you, and for now."  Plain and simple.  If we ever want to truly know God and be changed by Him, we need to be in His Word daily and regulalry.  It's Living Water.  
• So there's my life for the past 87 days.  Sorta.  

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Let's Chat...

Our family is venturing into the world of foster care.  


*moment of silence to let that process*


I've come up with a million different ways to share that information.   Many entailed details and stories and "looking back" that lead up to the climatic news, rather than just simply throwing it out there for you to choke on.   But for us, it's kind of the same way God led us...He really just dropped it in front of us (rather obviously) in a way that felt like it came out of no-where.  Of course it really wasn't out of no-where, we had just been doing a reaaaaallly good job of trying to ignore it.  

Someday I'll share those details.  In the mean time, we are in the beginning stages of becoming licensed.  Already it is frustrating.  Brokenness is always frustrating.  Broken system.  Broken people.  But God is not broken.

When I was 14, I made a decision to trust Jesus.  It was not on an emotional whim.  It was a literal wrestling with counting the cost of that decision.  I had been presented with truth, there was no denying that.  And I had a decision to make.  Trust Him, and hand over my life to Him.  Or reject Him, and do my life, my way.  I read scripture, trying to find a middle ground, a loop hole.  Something that said, "Hey, you can trust Jesus AND live life your own way!"

That verse doesn't exist.  

Instead, this does: 

Luke 14:25-34The Message (MSG)

Figure the Cost

25-27 One day when large groups of people were walking along with him, Jesus turned and told them, “Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters—yes, even one’s own self!—can’t be my disciple. Anyone who won’t shoulder his own cross and follow behind me can’t be my disciple.

28-30 “Is there anyone here who, planning to build a new house, doesn’t first sit down and figure the cost so you’ll know if you can complete it? If you only get the foundation laid and then run out of money, you’re going to look pretty foolish. Everyone passing by will poke fun at you: ‘He started something he couldn’t finish.’

31-32 “Or can you imagine a king going into battle against another king without first deciding whether it is possible with his ten thousand troops to face the twenty thousand troops of the other? And if he decides he can’t, won’t he send an emissary and work out a truce?

33 “Simply put, if you’re not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can’t be my disciple.

34 “Salt is excellent. But if the salt goes flat, it’s useless, good for nothing.

“Are you listening to this? Really listening?”

I was a 14 year old kid.  But I knew to count the cost.  I exchanged my will for His will.  It was my best decision.  And my hardest decision.  Because my will...it is strong. 

Years later, Ben, my then boyfriend (now husband), shared that God was calling him in to ministry, I knew in my heart he was right.  I also knew that it wasn't what I wanted my future husband to be called to.  Because that seemed hard.  

Ministry is hard.  (for the record.)  But it is also beautiful.  And worth it.  And the place we are called to be.  

When God dropped this foster care stuff in our path, I immediately felt like the 19 year old girl learning her boyfriend was called to pastor.  I knew in my heart that's what He wants for  us...and I also knew I'd rather be called to something else.  Something easier.  

This following Jesus stuff, it's hard.  It's not a one-time-thing.  It's a continual laying down of my will, and accepting His.  His will...it's always, always, always proven better than mine.  Always.   But that doesn't make it easy.

We have no idea what's in store.  Or where all of this will lead.  But we are taking the steps of faith, in obedience.  *With trembling.*

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It Matters

I've been thinking a lot about encouragement lately.  About how we all need it.  About those who give it freely.  And about those who...don't. 

I received a card in the mail the other day.  Written inside were a few short sentences of encouragement.  Nothing lavish or over the top.  Just simple sentences letting us know they appreciated how God is using us.  And it was one of those moments that hit me me hard.  Like crying outside the post office, hard.  Because it was just so sweet of them to send it.  

And apparently I needed it.  That's how encouragement is.  We all need it.  And we all need to give it.  

Maybe it's harsh to say this, but *oh well* I think most people think they are a fountain, when in fact they more often act like a drain.  Me included.

Some people definitely have the spiritual gift of encouragement.  This lady that sent the card, it's her gift.  It is.  

For others of us, we need to work at it a little.  We need to say the nice thing out loud.  I like to just think it.  Because thinking it in my head still seems like a nice thing to do.  But it needs to come out of my head and go into their heart for it to matter.  

Over the past several years I've learned a few things about encouragement.  One, is that in ministry & life, you will spend a great deal of time just encouraging people.  Over and over and over.  Like a cheerleader...only without the pom poms and short skirt.  Sometimes it will make a difference.  And sometimes it won't.  Cheerleaders don't control the outcome of the game.  They just cheer their little hearts out regardless.

I wasn't quite prepared for that.  I have sort of the exact opposite of a cheerleader personality.  In fact, "not a cheerleader" is on my long list of "Things I'm Not: Why Did God Call Me to be the  Wife of a Pastor?" 

And God, as usual, shows me He's not limited by what I'm not.  It's Him in me.  And so He prompts, and He prompts and He prompts some more.  And I write the email, or the text, or make the phone call.  And tell people *out loud* what I'm already thinking in my head.  Because I  need to hear it as much as they do. 

There's a phrase I find myself saying often when encouraging people: "It matters."  Whatever they are doing, whatever they are struggling with, whoever they are...it matters.  It was only recently that I realized that part of the reason I'm saying it all the time is because in a way, I'm saying it to myself.  When I tell them it matters, I'm reminding my own heart that it matters.

Cheer somebody on today.  Say the nice thing.  Everyone needs some encouragement.  Let them know it matters.  You can do it.  *insert toe touch*  (just kidding, I can't even bend over and touch my toes, let alone jump in the air and do it.  But you get the idea.)






(all images obtained via pinterest, I have no idea who the copyright belongs to, but it's not me)

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Decade

The beginning of this month marked T E N years of ministry for us here in Tiny Town.  

A decade.

So much life has happened in ten years.  I can hardly wrap my head and heart around it.  

I've tried over and over to at least compose a post in my head about the past decade.  But I seem to get so far, and then decide that's not something I want to share.  And then I start from a new angle, and end up at the same point.  A bullet-point list of all I've learned seemed totally do-able.  But nothing.  And so I wait for the words to come.  And wait and wait and wait.  

This morning an Internet friend (Tracy) posted a link to a Beth Moore article and as I read it, I suddenly knew what the writers block was.  Me.

"The most basic one-word synonym for “disciple” is “learner.” Maybe you need to know today what I’ve needed to know so many days: learning, for a follower of Christ, is still a mark of discipleship even if you learned some lessons the hard way.

Or the excruciating way.

Or the embarrassing way.

Or the exasperating way.

Or the explosive, expensive or excessively long way.

If it attached you to the Teacher, if it marked you with Him and caused you at all to imitate Him, that’s the beating heart of discipleship."

I am overwhelmed with what God has done in me, this past decade.  Not through me, or because of me, but in me.  

And here's what God made me realize this morning:  "Learning, for a follower of Christ, is still a mark of discipleship even if you learned some lessons the hard way."

Early on in ministry, I would have defined "success" for myself as not failing.  I mean, I wouldn't have said that out-loud, but in my head, that would have at least been part of the definition.  In order to succeed, I needed to get most things right in most situations.  I'm the pastor's wife after all.   It only makes logical sense.  And I am, after all, l o g i c a l.  And I operated under this unspoken expectation of mine for many years.  

But God is different.  He works inside and outside of the logical.  

He took my "most things right in most situations" mentality and flipped it on me.   And I wondered why God would go and make a mess of things that I had WORKED SO HARD AT NOT MAKING A MESS OF?!?  And then the mess settled, and it became clear.  Sometimes a mess is required to make room for better.

And I learned something that I should have known logically, but didn't know practically.  God is glorified in the mess.  And He changes me in the mess.  In my mess.  I don't have to get it right all the time.  And it's in my failures that I grow in Him.  And that's all He really desires from me.  To grow closer to Him.  Everything else is an overflow from that.  I knew this to be true of other people, but my expectation for myself in my position had been different.  *God is not limited by me not getting it right all the time.*

Can I tell you something?  If you have a pastors wife in you life...let her mess up.  Allow her to disappoint you.   It's for your good, and your church's good.  When she doesn't say the thing you need to hear.  When she's not the friend you want or need...love her for that.  Because she's as messed up as you are.  And when you can see her that way, you give her freedom to grow into who God wants her to be.  And it's likely not what you want her to be...or what she wants to be (ha!) but it is most definitely what God wants.  I am thankful for people that have loved me in my messy.  

Here's what I've learned.  Successful ministry is not about the church always getting it right.  Or the pastor and his wife being the right people.  It's about disappointing each other and living and loving through it!  When a church can do that, God is glorified...and the impossible becomes possible through the unleashing of His power.  

I am so thankful for the people in our tiny church that have loved us through our learning/failing/loving process and who continue to walk this journey of faith with us.  I'm sure there are times when they've wondered if better options were out there.  I've wondered that for them.  But that's the beauty in it.  The coming and working together that would otherwise be impossible if not for God. 

It is a blessing to have been loved well these past ten years.  My prayer is that He continues to help me to love Him, and love others.  It's that simple.  All the good....that's Him.

John 13:35English Standard Version (ESV)

35 By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

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Stained Glass

A week or so ago, Ben and I had the chance to see one of my favorite bands, Rend Collective, live.  Normally, I'm not a huge fan of concerts because: People.  My loathing of crowds usually trumps all.  But this time they were playing in a smaller venue with balcony seating...which = my idea of a good time.

So we bought tickets the night before (procrastinators) and went out on a school night.  

Rend Collective was fantastic.  Seriously great.  And they played some of my favorite songs right off the bat, so now they have my heart forever.  

And yes, I bought a (grown up version) poster and taped it to my wall.  Near the living room.  One is never too old for a poster.

Anyways.  

There was a guy that opened for Rend Collective, and his name was Jon Guerra.  I had never heard him before, but really fell in love with his music.

I imagine that there's pressure being the opening act for a band.  You're the little guy, playing first, and you know the crowd paid for tickets to see the other band.  Basically.  But as he sang, his music ministered to my soul.  Deeply.  And if I met him (and his lovely wife that sang with him) I would tell them that being the opening-act...well, it's a big deal.  It impacts.  God uses the big guys.  And the little guys.  

I'm always a fan of the little guys.  The underdogs.  The less known.  It might be why I love my church church so much.  

One of my favorite songs he sang was called Stained Glass.  And so I have to share.  

Stained glass explained:

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Post-Its

My husband is the romantic in this house.  He has always been the romantic in our relationship, which dates back to me being 15 and him being 17.  So, it's been awhile.  

I'm way to boring and realistic to be romantic.  My brain just doesn't bend that way.  Instead, it bends towards sarcasm and practicality.  *what a lucky guy*

He wrote me poems, and letters, and brought me flowers.   And he never let my head-shaking and eye-rolling and smirky-smile deter him.  Because that's who he is.  He's goofy, and romantic, and willing to be vulnerable...my opposite.  Which is part of what has always made me drawn to him.  Pretty admirable qualities.  

This morning, I woke up to post-it notes on all sorts of objects all over the house.  Quirky little notes.  He leaves me notes fairly often, but today was excessive enough that our boys noticed.

As the boys (14, almost 13, and 10) funneled down the stairs this morning, they couldn't help but notice the yellow post-its.  They laughed and *mocked* a little, but before I knew it they were scrounging around the house gathering all MY notes.  Reading them aloud, and smiling.  Oh the smiling.  

One boy, my sarcastic one, said "Mom, you should do this for Dad" and all of us laughed.  Because they know me.  The thought of me doing it is literally laughable.  

Then that same boy said, "Dad leaves me notes sometimes."  And the others piped in with similar stories.  Notes in their trappers, lunch boxes, electronics.  

And we love those notes.

The youngest boy collected all the notes, and hung them in the door-way.  He even managed to find the one that I *thought* I had snagged before they saw it, because: Semi-inappropriate.  HA.  Cue the grossed-out snickering of boys.

It's funny how some little post-its can make such an impact.  And I won't be surprised at all someday, when they do the very same thing for their wives.  I just hope they have some snickering boys around when they do it. ;)

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Getting Junk Done

I have had a couple things change my life lately.  For real.  And by "lately" I mean within the past couple of weeks.  

So I'm going to share with you, because maybe they will change your life too.  Or not.  Whatever.  

The first is an app that my Genius-Friend-Heather told me about over iced coffees.  Good things come over iced coffees.  It's called 

Chore Monster.

So I linked to the website, but I actually got it in the app store (free) and use it from my phone.  The kids use it from their kindle/ipad/etc.  It's super easy to set up, and seriously...the 10 year old and even the 12 year old are ASKING TO DO MORE CHORES.  I'm not even kidding.  

You can set up rewards, short term and/or long term.  When they do a chore, it sends you a message and you can approve the chore if they actually did it.  The amazing thing is, it has taken out all the nagging that was previously involved in our chore life.  I don't know if it's because it's easy to use, or fun, or motivating because they can see the numbers, but dude.  It works.  Also, our house is clean.  And the van is clean.  And the yard and garage are pretty decent too because my kids are apparently highly motivated by sugary treats and REWARDS.  

Lucy is 5, and I help her navigate it on my phone.  I made one of her chores "Staying in Bed when you are tucked in so that Mommy doesn't lose her mind."  And this week:  stayed in bed.  *hallelujah*   

This little app has made us all like each other better.  And things are clean.  Happily Ever After.

The other thing that has changed my life is Clean Mama.  

I first found her on Instagram as cleanmama.  She has chores broken down into the simplest of routines.  And on Instagram she puts a cute little reminder out each day about what she's doing.  I followed her all winter and spring, without ever actually joining in on her process.  Because sometimes (mostly all the time) I like the idea of being really organized, while actually just being a procrastinator.   

But a month or so ago I printed off one of her free lists, and then after staring at it for a couple weeks, I actually started it.  

It's the best thing ever for me.  

I'm kind of a cleaner.  Junk all over makes me feel claustrophobic and so I'm constantly picking up.  But my brain is squirrel-ish and I get distracted easily, so no one task ever felt completely done, even though I was working on stuff allll the live long day.  Clean Mama's simple system and easy list keeps me on track and my squirrel-brain has decided it's totally do-able.  

Here's a simple breakdown, but check out her website because she explains it better and in more detail.  And it works, I swear.

Mondays- bathrooms (but not floors, because that's on Thursdays)
Tuesday - Dust
Wednesday - vacuum all floors, top to bottom
Thursday - Wash hard floors
Friday- Catch up on stuff
Saturday - Towels and Sheets 

It's kept me on task, and helped me do some of the stuff that I usually put off for so long that when I do have to do it, it's super disgusting and makes me want to scream.  (the boys bathroom, for instance)  This week when I did the bathroom, it wasn't so bad.  I mean still gross...but whatever.

With the kids doing chores, and Clean Mama's system, I feel like things are manageable.  Not perfect, but good enough.  And that helps. A ton.

And for the record, I don't work outside the home.  Kudos to the Mom's who do.  You're amazing.  And deserve a cleaning lady.  So my recommendation for you, is Chore Monster and a cleaning lady.  Because that's what I would do. ;)

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Lame-Awesomeness

My Sophomore-in-high school-self was pretty sure she was going to be one of the cool parents someday.  You know the ones.  The parents that didn't ask a bazillion questions about where you were going and what you were doing or what you might do or who might be there.  The cool ones who just trusted you. Just let you do your thing.  

I was going to be one of those parents that didn't need their kid to check-in all the time, and I certainly wasn't going to be nosy about all the details of every situation they encountered.  

Because I would be cool. And fun.  Obviously.

But the thing about Sophomores, and teenagers in general, is that they're sort of *morons*.  Even the smart ones.  They're all operating at varying degrees of the moronic-condition.  It's not even their fault.  Their brains are not done growing, and they don't have the life experience or maturity to make fully rational choices all of the time.  They think they do.  But they don't.  And then hormones.

Me (sophomore) and Ben (senior).  Good kids...but technically morons yet at that stage in life.

Twenty one years later...

Don't let the nose-ring fool you.  I am neither cool nor fun (by teenager standards).  Sophomore-Sarah turned into the "lame mom."  And not just the default lame mom, but the proud-of-it, no-denying-it lame mom.  Watching, stalking, listening, guarding, questioning.  Because wisdom comes with age.  And wiser-me knows that I have great kids.  I do.  But given the right circumstances, even great kids can end up making stupid choices.  So it's my job, as the lame-mom, to help walk them through their moronic-journey.  

Not to shelter them completely.  And not to keep them from making mistakes.  But to guard them, and teach them, and protect them...so they can grow out of their moronic condition.  

My kids are only at the Jr. High teen stage.  But I can already spot the cool parents.  The fun ones.  The ones that get to say yes to the things that I'm saying "no way in..." to.  And that's when it dawned on me.  A little part of me still wants to be the cool kid, the one who just says yes.  But the bigger part of me, is totally at peace being the fun-hater.  Especially when girls are involved. Where my boys are concerned, all girls should just assume I said no.  ;)

Sophomore-Sarah would think she's totally lame.  But 37-year-old-Sarah understands that lame means awesome.  So to all the lame-awesome mama's out there, telling your young teenagers NO to stuff that 14 year old's don't need to be doing:  High Five.  Let's unite in our lame-awesomeness.

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It's Just a Nose

Let's catch up.  A little, anyways.  And by a *little* I mean the longest post on a nose piercing EVAH.  It's for documentation.  *preserving memories for the next generation*   

In January our Ladies Bible Study did What Love Is by Kelly Minter.  I've been a part of a lot of Bible studies, and this one ranks at the top for me.  Deep and practical and just plain amazing.  I learned so much.  

That's sort of a side note for you.  Ha.  Anyways.  This was one of our larger groups of ladies.  14 in all.  So at the beginning of each night of study, we would open with a little "get to know you" kind of question.  Totally random.  I think one of the questions was "What is something we'd be surprised to know about you."  It was interesting, let me tell you.  

I had trouble coming up with something to tell the group because frankly, I tell them a lot about me...because I talk too much (about myself) when I feel awkward in a group that I'm leading.  Super annoying.  I think I eventually blurted out that I had always wanted to get my nose pierced but that I probably couldn't because of church-y stuff and church-y people.  *whatever that means*

I think that I thought they would all agree with me.  But they didn't.  They totally encouraged me to do it.  They are wild and crazy:  Obviously.*cough*

And that's where it took root.  The truth is, that many times before I had thought about getting it pierced,  and prayed about it and just never got the "go-ahead" from God.  Because timing.  

This time when I began to pray about it again, and talk to Ben about it (because if I did it, it was his problem too ;)  And this time, it was a total go-for-it.  And I panicked a little.  Doubted that it realllly was OK to do it.  Had visions of church members firing Ben because of his heathen wife. *exaggerate much?*   After about a month of this on-going debate in my head, it was as if God said to me, "I gave you the OK, STOP ASKING IF IT'S REALLY OK!"  He's always loving and firm with me.

By this time it was the end of February, and on a Saturday night our Ladies Bible Study all went out for dinner.  Two of the ladies, who already had their nose's pierced decided we should get mine done after dinner.  Of course they did.  So after dinner, most of the ladies went down to a local coffee shop and we headed to the piercer and told them we'd meet them for coffee when we finished.  

Because this is the stuff you do with your Ladies Bible Study, right?!?  

The first place we got to was already booked-full for the night.  It's in a college town, apparently all the college kids get pierced on weekends.  They talked me into trying the tattoo parlor, because obviously they were skilled with needles.  

OK.

As we walked up to the door, a man (with a completely tattooed FACE) locked us out.  It wasn't meant to be.

We settled for coffee.

But Monday morning, (Ben's day off), he drove me to the Piercer and a few minutes later...it was done.  

Side note:  The gal who pierced it, had several piercings.  I tried to make small-talk because *hello, I do that when I'm nervous and I'm awkward* but she was not amused.  At one point I said something about how it really shouldn't hurt me so much, I mean I'd birthed four kids.  She replied with, "You'd think."  I probably told her I was a pastor's wife too.  I'm sure she cared.

Afterwards we went out for burgers and then went grocery shopping, like we do every Monday.  I tried to act all normal, but dude.  I had a little fake-diamond IN MY NOSE!  I felt awesome.  Not gonna lie.

First Day

By the time Sunday rolled around, I was getting pretty used to having it.  I psyched myself up as I walked the 27 steps over to church.  This would be the first time all the non-facebooker's would see it.  

And none of them noticed it.  Or at least they didn't act like they noticed it.  All my fretting and worry and...nothing. 

The one outspoken older fella finally noticed it a couple weeks later.  He just laughed and gave me a thumbs-up.  He also suggested I not put anything "huge" in it, and requested I not get a tattoo.  Heh.  No problem.

Life with a nose piercing was good.  Until I accidentally pulled it out with a cotton ball while applying toner to my face.  I tried shoving it back through to no avail.  *owie owie owie*  I ended up driving straight to the piercer and they put in a new one like it was easy peasy.  It turns out, it's easier when you know what you're doing.

After that trauma, I developed the cursed nose-bump.  A tiny little wretched red bump next to the piercing.  You can google it.  Ha.  I did...and tried every remedy under the heavens to get rid of it.  Soak it with sea salt, crushed aspirin, saline, leaving it alone, blah blah blah.  None of it worked.  Ben and my friends kept reassuring me that they didn't even notice it.  I am surrounded by liars.  *smile*

And then finally, on IG, I saw someone that had to switch to a 18k gold one because their body was reacting to the metal.  So I caved and ordered a $45 teeny tiny gold stud for my nose.  Because: Desperate.  And also: More money than I've ever spent on earrings.

It came, I put it in myself, and within a week the bump healed.  HEALED.  

And now I love it.  It's part of me.  My friends told me it gives me some street cred.  So I guess I'm sorta legit now.  Or something.

My brother, who's 11 years younger than me, jokingly called me a rebel.  I laughed, because of the story I just wrote above.  Piercing my nose may be one of the least rebellious things I've done.  He was pretty happy about it though, because he had gotten a tattoo about a year before and had been dreading telling my mom.  He figured if she could handle my nose, then she could handle his tattoo.  He was right.  

But at least mine is not permanent - Said The Responsible Older Sister.

The End.

*Also, you can go to the Life in the Parsonage facebook page and "like" it to get blog updates too.*

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That Close

Just a refresher for you on how close the parsonage is to the church.  Parsonage on the left, church in the back.  

And I got my nose pierced in March.  More on that tomorrow.  And updates from the past 8 months.   

I spent all my self-imposed computer time today trying to figure out how to get my iphone photos onto the blog in the least complicated manner.  Success.  

*It's an exciting life I lead.*

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New Season

It's sort of an understatement to say that it's been awhile.  

Ha.  

But seriously.  It's been awhile.

I started this book, and I'm about 3/4 of the way through.

It was just what I needed.  I am entering a new season of life.  I have a 14, 12, 10, and 5 year old now.  I'm not exactly new to ministry anymore.  We've lived in this parsonage for 9 years 9 months.  I am not the same girl I was when I started blogging.  Or even since my last post in October.  But I am still me.  Ever changing and ever the same.  

In the book, she talks about how we are better wives, mothers, and friends, when we make some time (that we think we don't have) to do the things we love.  And over and over again, blogging kept making it's way to the top of the list for me.  

And so it's going to become a priority for me again.  Not because anyone needs to hear what I have to say, or what non-exciting thing I'm doing today (I made a FB page for our church, and painted our dining table) but for me.  Because I like to write (with improper grammar) and really, doesn't the internet need more of that?  And God likes to change my heart...through the writing and the sharing and the living.  

I'm in.  I'm allll in.

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Two Sparrows

Someday, I will actually get around to showing you pictures of the office in all its gray glory.  It's so happy not to be that shameful green anymore.

And someday I will blog everyday like I said I would.  Just kidding.  I would totally do it if  these people (my children) could just stop needing me (to locate their stuff).  And needing food.  And so on.  Also, if I wasn't so easily distracted. that would be helpful too.

Back to the office:  We found our old CD collection.  90's and early 2000's CD's.  It's hilarious and awesome and aweful all at the same time.  I've been listening to Garth Brooks non-stop in the mini van (because it's the only place we have a functional CD player thanks to my love of the ipod.)  When I moved on to Tanya Tucker's Love Songs I thought *maybe* I might need some sort of intervention with the CD's.  Today it was the Dixie Chicks.  I think I've finally forgiven them for speaking ill of my favorite president.  The destruction of their careers was probably enough punishment.  I am, of course kidding.  Not about George W though.  I heart him.

Also.  I'm not quite sure why I like American Honkey Tonk Bar Association so much.  But I do.  I feel like Weird Al could totally remake it for church.

This is how my mind works.

I will leave you with a Tanya Tucker love song that I used to listen to as a teenager.  Turns out, IT WAS ABOUT ME.

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I Remembered Today!

Oops.  I missed blogging this weekend.  Like, I didn't even remember. At all.

The office is painted.  YAY!  And I will post pictures as soon as I put the finishing touches on.  

We've been dragging anyone who stops by through the office so we can show them.  I may be the only person so excited about gray.*jazz hands*

So.  Yesterday I SHOULD have posted that one year ago I was doing THIS.

It was such an amazing experience.  It deserves a One Year Anniversary Post.  

I hope to do it again. Sometime.  But for now, my priority list is full of other people and stuff.  So running will just be for fun...not for training.  And by "fun" I mean I haven't ran in 3 weeks...or so.

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It's a Start!

Ignore my low quality photos, I'm in a hurry :)

The office is officially empty.

My Pastor Husband has a very hard time parting with books. He also has a hard time saying no, when people offer him their old books.  Which means I found some interesting ones while helping to empty shelves.  

Yep, Tramp for the Lord.  I showed it to Ben and it went something like this:

Ben:  it's not what it sounds like. It means going door-to-door...

Me: I bet it does...*wink*

Life in the Parsonage, people. It's never dull.

And this is about 1/4 of the pile(s) of books lieing or laying (who can remember) around the parsonage.  

It's gonna be worth it. ;)

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Insignificantly Significant

The great thing about blogging is the recording of insignificantly-significant events.  Like:  We are finally getting around to re-painting Ben's office/study (which is just off our living room in the parsonage) and I thought it had to be at least 7 years that I've lived with our awful choice of green.  

Side note:  Yes, that was a super run-on sentence, but I prefer my blogging, to sound like me.  I speak in run-on sentences.  

I couldn't really remember how long its been the same color as a John Deere tractor, so I typed it into my blog search box and BAM up pops my post about painting the office green.  Turns out, it's been 6 years.  It took us 6 years to work up the courage to 1 - pick another color 2 - remove all the books and book shelves.

The primer and brushes are bought, and I pick up the paint tomorrow.  So by Monday I should have lovely light gray walls to show you.

*Exciting*

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Time

I've been thinking about time.  And how bad I am at it.

I am not the best manager of time.  I'm just not.  Every night I go to bed thinking, "big fat fail today, but TOMORROW, tomorrow I will use my time better!"  And then I don't.

I procrastinate and procrastinate and then hurry-like-crazy.  Even when I am functioning is a sort-of-not-waste-of-time manner, I feel like I'm wasting time.  To plod along like I believe normal people do, you know:  Time Managers, seems totally do-able.  But then it's not.  

In reality, although I do waste a lot of time, I know that much of what I do only feels like time wasted, and IS REALLY NOT TIME WASTED.  *yelling*  Just kidding.  Not yelling.

I thoroughly enjoy planning ways to manage my time well.  I've got printable schedules and itemized to-do lists, all in pretty colors.  In case pretty colors will help me with my time problems.  Umm, they do not.

But anyways.  It's part of who I am.  Maybe God will redeem it.  Maybe it's who I will always be.  Either way, now it's written down so that when I am old and can't remember my husband, he will read me my blog and remind me who I am.  Or was.  And then we will die when we are old, at the very same moment.  They should really make a movie like that...

Just kidding.

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