All's "Hair" In Love And War

So just so that you don't think that Butterbean has dropped off of the face of the earth...(she totally hasn't...I mean but she HAS been a little busy what with walking and toddling and learning new words and basically being a toddler.  She's swamped.)

Here's a little convo we had just recently.  Please overlook the empty boxes and dead plants in the background.  It's not that I'm against cleaning up my front porch, it's just that I didn't do it BEFORE I started clicking away.

So...Butterbean has a little bit of an issue with her hair.  And she came to me, her very loving and very wise Mimi.

 Butterbean: Ummm...hey Mimi???
Me: Yes my little love?
Butterbean: Um, well, um could you maybe help me out with something?
Me: Of course I can, my angel.  What is it?
Butterbean: Oh, well...it's my hair I mean...

 ....just LOOK at it, it's just you know...LAYING there. And stuff.
Me: Uh-huh.  I see.  Well...have you thought about putting a little hair clip in it?
Butterbean: What's a hairclip?
Me: Well, I think I have one here (digging in pocket) um, yes, I do.  Here ya go kid.

 Butterbean:  What the heck is THAT?  It's the most WONDERFUL thing I have EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE LIFE!!!
Me: 'Bean honey it's just a hair clip...let's dial down the enthusiasm just a bit mkay precious?

 Butterbean: YAY!!! I HAVE IT!!! I HAVE THE HAIRCLIP!!!! LOOK IT'S A HAIRCLIP!!! BY THE POWERS OF GREYSKULL...(wait Mimi...that's from He-Man.  I don't even know who He-Man is...)
Me: (Sorry) Um, yes baby, that's a hairclip.  Here...let me show you how to put it in...

 Butterbean: OKAY!

 Butterbean: Uh...you're gonna give that back right?  Mimi?

 Butterbean: Man, she is totally ignoring me right now.  I can't believe this.  What's the deal here?  Why did she take my hairclip?  I loved it so.

 Me: There you go precious!  What do you think?
Butterbean:  Oh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about.  Beyonce' ain't got nothin' on me baby!  Talk about puttin' a ring on it...huh...you betta put a HAIRCLIP on it girlfriend!

 Butterbean: Hold on a minute Mimi, I think you need a close-up of this.  Let me get on my ride and roll on over to you...
Me: Uh, 'Bean honey that's not really necessary...I have, like hundreds of shots here...

 Butterbean: Let me just scoot on a little closer...you get your camera ready Mimi!
Me: Uh...Bean that's close baby...just um...you know...

 Butterbean: Just. a. little. closer.
Me: 'Bean I'm bout to fall off the porch honey...

 Butterbean: Almost....there....just...one...more...step
Me: Uh 'Bean, honey this isn't normal darling.  Just BACK THAT PONY UP A LITTLE MIMI LOVES HER TOES DARLING!!! SHE'D LIKE TO KEEP THEM!!!

Butterbean: Are you ready Mimi?
Me: (Completely melted by those eyes) What toes?

 Butterbean: So...how do I look?
Me: *sigh* Absolutely adorable.

Hi...I'm Mimi and I'm Melaninally Challenged...

Don't let the title confuse you.  I'm not mentally challenged (contrary to popular belief in the Mimi Supreme household) I am melaninally challenged.

Melaninally challenged - to be unable to scrape up enough melanin to produce anything close to resembling a tan. 

Webster's and Merriam you are welcome.  I'll be expecting a share of the royalties soon after my pet sea monkeys arrive in the mail.

Look y'all...what I'm trying to say is...I am not only a white woman...I'm a pale white woman.  And...I know...this is quite possibly the most trivial first-world problem EVER...but it IS an issue.

And OH do I ever have a lee-tle bone to pick with the local, ahem, "meteorologists" around here.  Oh, I know, I know...you can't control the weather...blah blah blah, but here's the deal weather people:

If the month of the year is April, and you've got your happy (or as Phil Robertson would say...happy happy happy) little sunfaces showing on the tv screen here's what blows through the cavern that is my mind...

SUNSHINE + APRIL IN THE SOUTH = HOT! TIME TO BREAK OUT THE CAPRI-PANTS!

Thaaat's right.  Just because I can't use the sun's rays for what God intended them for...perfect honey-kissed skin...doesn't mean I'm not still affected by them.  I get WARM y'all!  So I use the capris for some air-conditioning AU NATURAL.

Cause y'all...nobody wants to see Mimi sweat.  Ain't nobody got time for that!

But what has happened this year? It's April.  I've got the sunfaces, I've got the capris, I've got my pale-ashy skin...which is now turning a nice shade of blue because OH MY LORD THE COLD!!!!

The sun (and the weather people) has hoodwinked me y'all.  I been had.  I tell ya I been bamboozled.  And a lot of sweet, innocent little passersby who woke up this morning with no idea of what was in store for them today are now having to have medical attention because SUNRAYS BOUNCING OFF OF PALE WHITE SKIN = TEMPORARY BLINDNESS.

Yes weather people...it's possible that you are responsible for a small yet very devastating public health hazard.  Because even though Meatloaf thinks two out of three ain't bad (or in this instance, 4 out of 5) ..in some cases...it is.

Very bad.

The only silver lining in this whole thing is the looks on my kids faces when Mimi breaks these bad puppies out.

It almost makes it worth the frostbite.

Why I'm Not God

I know the posts here have been extremely few and far between.  Sorry about that.  I've been keeping quiet lately, trying to read more of the Word, and live more of the Word...rather than just run my mouth about it.

I'm writing today because a Big Event is happening and I have Some Thoughts.

Big Thoughts if you will.

My son, the younger of my two, is about to graduate from high school in a few months.  So naturally  he's been thinking rather hard about Life After High School. 

His father and I have been insisting on college since he was old enough to pronounce the word.  I mean, that's what all good parents in America do, right?  Education is the key to the American Dream, so we pushed and shoved for college right out of the gate.

But college is our dream. 

Not his.

Ever since he was little, and I mean 4 or 5 years old, my son has talked about being in the military.  When he got to be around 7 or 8 he started talking about it a lot.  When he was in middle school, his favorite channel became The Military Channel.  And it was about that time that he started talking about being a Marine.

Now...I can't say I'm thrilled about this dream.  I'm just not.  I'm proud of him, and I support him to the fullest...but I do not like this idea.

We thought we had him talked into at least trying a semester at college at UT Chattanooga.  Then last week he came home with the news that he'd met a Marine recruiter at his school during lunch, and wanted us to go and meet with him to talk about...things.

It became crystal clear to me in that moment that this really wasn't going to go away.  This wasn't just a pipe dream for him.  He is going to become a Marine.

Later that night after much pleading for prayer at church, (it was a Wednesday...thank goodness) it occurred to me that I could cry and beg and plead...and probably get him to enter college.  But it also occurred to me that perhaps if I did that, I would be standing in the way of God's plan for C.  And here's where it gets really nasty.

Everybody knows that the Marines are the first ones into battle.  And given that our country is still engaged in Afghanistan...and may possibly make a move on Syria...my concern for my son's well being is well founded.

Especially when I look at the people in this country.  Do I want my son sacrificing his youth and possibly his life defending freedom not just for the people here, but elsewhere in the world? 

Um...no.

I mean c'mon...we're talking everybody here.  Righteous and unrighteous.  Deserving and undeserving.  People who wouldn't so much as spit on my son if he were on fire.  Do you see where I'm going?

Why should my son possibly give up his life to protect freedom for murderers...rapists...child molesters...and on and on and on.  Do they know his heart?  That this isn't only a dream to him...but a driving force from within?  He feels compelled to stand for us.  That he would be less of a man, less of an American, if he doesn't do it.

Have any of those people in Congress..the ones who have the power to send him to war on a whim seen his sweet smile?  The tenderness of his heart?  Was the President there when he was born?  The politicians and judges and all in charge, did they watch him endure taunting and bullying only to persevere and be given awards and be recognized by his football coaches and peers as a man of integrity and character?  He could have turned nasty with all that he's been through...but he didn't.  He forgave and loved and moved on. 

I'm not a wealthy person...the ONLY treasure I have outside of Jesus is my children.  THEY (and Butterbean) are my most precious possessions. And I'm sorry...I just don't love you enough to give ANY of them up for you.  Especially not my son.

Which is why I'm not God.

If I had to sacrifice my son to satisfy the requirement of the Law...you'd better believe I'd be making dang sure you all were worth it.  And from where I sit...no one would make the cut.  You would all need to be making room in your suitcases for marshmallows and weenies because I hear hell is only good for roasting things. 

So thankfully for you, where I sit is not where God sits.

He is seated high above, He knows all, loves all, and His wisdom and understanding have no limit.  For God...you, me, everybody...even the politicians...are worth it.

I don't get it, don't understand it, but that's the way it is.  He has deemed you worthy of the Greatest Treasure, the Daystar, the Lily of the Valley, the Rose of Sharon. 

And as I learn, oh so painfully, the greatness of this cost, I join my voice with Paul's and implore you (and myself) to "walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace."  Eph. 4:1 (NASB)

I hope you hear my heart in this.  The cost for freedom, spiritual and physical, is so high that we there isn't a measuring instrument or scale able to truly count it or weigh it.  Therefore we have a duty first as Christians, and secondly as Americans, to walk in a way that honors Christ first, and then those who gave years of their lives away from families, who gave their sanity, their bodies, their fortunes, and for some...their lives...so that it won't have been for nothing. 

We owe so much...it is the least we can do.

A City On A Hill

Well y'all, I've been thinking about some stuff tonight.  So hold on to your hats, go pee or whatever because this could get lengthy.

One might say that I've been in a bit of a funk the past several months.  No need to go into specifics...I'm sure everybody's been like that at one time or another.

Aforementioned funkiness (yeahhh...let's go with THAT word...funkiness...eatcha heart out Chaka Khan...) being the reason that posts have been pretty sparse around here.  Because really?  Who wants to read about a somewhat middle-aged woman whining about her stuff?

Nobody.  That's who.

Fortunately for me though, I have a Heavenly Father who is so crazy about me that He will go to any lengths, use any method, any tool, even go so far as to send His one and only to die for me...so that I can be rescued from myself and live.

I shouldn't have been surprised by it all really.  I had been crying out for some time that my passion for Him just wasn't there anymore.  That I needed to get rid of some pride, do this, do that...anything to be enough.

Enough for Him.

*sigh* Silly rabbit, all works and no grace is for Pharisees.

So...

I sorta, kinda got my wish to have my fire re-kindled, my passion re-inflamed, my hope restored and made fresh.  But it came at a heavy price.

See...here's the thing...sometimes, in order to be filled or, re-filled, with something...it means you gotta get rid of something.  In my case, it was a big old giant that I thought was dead, but was really only wounded...and he came back with some of his brothers to set up house, because I merrily refused to deal with him fully in the first place.

All that to say, this battle has got me stirred up.  And really, me and God are doing good...we're cleaning house if you catch what I'm doing here.  Because all of the funk drove me to my knees and forced me to pray something I hadn't prayed in a while.

God...You are God and I am not.  God...give me back my hunger....give me back my passion for You...give me an all-consuming love for You again.

So yeah...me and God have this fiery romance thing going on right now.  And it's awesome because I know this is a seismic shift in my life.

I will never, ever be the same again.

And in all of this, just today, I began to think about passion and about how I got passionate for God in the first place...if you'd like to know (and you sort of don't have a choice here.  Well...you do, but you'll have to sort of like, leave and not read the rest of this post...so...) I'll be glad to share with you.

Quite simply...the way I started to hunger for a passion for God was...well...I hung out with passionate people.  One friend of mine in particular sort of set the whole thing off.

So it's her fault...thankfully.

I won't call her by her given name here...we'll just let her be known as 'Netters.

She and I crossed paths in a tiny little church many moons ago.  We instantly connected because, it was hard not to love somebody who was so...out there and ga-ga over the moon for Jesus.

She's a talented singer and musician but it's not so much her talent...it's how she sings...she gives her whole self..and I had never, ever seen anybody in any little bitty church sing to God like that.

I asked her once how she did it.  She said it like this, "When I'm up there on that piano stool, it's just me and God."  I couldn't figure it out, since obviously, it wasn't just her and God...myself and the rest of the congregation were there too.

And it wasn't just how she sang...it was how she lived.  She was so eager to talk about Jesus and to learn about Him, and was so fascinated with Him.  What can I say?  I was jealous.

And God used her to light a holy and beautiful brushfire within me.

So to my dear friend...I am thinking of you once again today as I re-start and re-kindle and re-fill.  I can see you, tears streaming down your face, smiling and singing with your whole body...telling everyone about how the old story would never grow old for you.

I give thanks to God that He put you in my path...because I was forever and irrevocably changed.  You unashamedly put your lamp out on a lampstand and lit up the whole house.  You were the city that was set up on a hill for me and in you...He could not be hidden.

Thank you for that.

You are the light of the world.  A city set upon a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.  Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. Matthew 5:14-16 (NASB)

I am Jean Valjean

One word from him and I'd be back
Beneath the lash, upon the rack
Instead he offers me my freedom
I feel my shame inside me like a knife
He told me that I have a soul,
How does he know?
What spirit comes to move my life?
Is there another way to go?

I am reaching, but I fall
And the night is closing in
And I stare into the void
To the whirlpool of my sin
I'll escape now from the world
From the world of Jean Valjean
Jean Valjean is nothing now
Another story must begin!

(Lyrics from Who Am I? as sung by Jean Valjean.

From Les Mis

Written by Claude-Michel Schonenberg and Alain Boublil)

 

 

I was blessed by an opportunity to go see the movie/musical Les Mis this past weekend.  My sweet son was my date.  He actually was the one who convinced me to go.  Y'all I don't normally go to the movies.  (Because hello...$40 for 2 cokes and a popcorn is not my idea of a good time.) 

 

Usually I just wait for movies to get to On-Demand before I watch them.  But my son said I just had to go and see this movie.  He had seen it over the Christmas break and offered to go see it again if I'd go with him. 

 

Well...long story short (too late for that...sorry) we went.

 

And y'all.

 

Y'all.

 

Y'ALL.

 

I was quite simply...blown away.  It's been 4 days and I still haven't quite recovered.  How Hollywood managed to put out a movie that proclaimed the Gospel of Grace so wonderfully and beautifully without totally cutting the Lord out of the picture is nothing short of a true-blue miracle. 

 

True. Blue.

 

I'm telling you I practically floated out of that movie theater.  I had to because we had flooded the dang thing with tears.  Seriously...my son said it sounded like a symphony in there what with all the sobbing and sniffling and nose blowing.  And when the rest of the audience got into the act...well...I'll just leave it to your imagination.

 

The movie...it is a tear-jerker.  So take some Kleen-ex with you.  Don't be like yours truly and think "Oh I'm not gonna cry." 

 

Yes.  Yes you will.

 

The lady to the left of me said she would've shared but she could only find one measley kleenex and it had to last her the entire 2 and 1/2 hours.  I'm guessing she hasn't heard of our Lord's miracle of the fishes and the loaves but whatever.

 

The two sweet little girls sitting next to my son didn't speak English very well (bless 'em) and they spent the entire movie sobbing in Chinese.  I didn't know that was possible but it is.

 

So yeah.  Tears.  They will flow like a river. 

 

But they will be good tears...especially at the end and you smack yourself in the head and realize the full message of what Mr. Hugo (author of the novel Les Miserables which is what the musical is based upon) had to say.  Not that I did that.  I'm speaking hypothetically of course.

 

The whole thing is uplifting and glorious in ways that Hugh Jackman's shamefully absent (and sadly missed) sideburns have striven-to-be-but-never-quite-made-it in all those X-men movies.

 

It is what going to the movies should be.

 

So don't wait for On-Demand.  Shell out the bucks and go.  It's worth it.

 

But please, for the love of all you and yours hold dear...refrain from singing "I Dreamed A Dream" mournfully to yourself in the shower the next morning as you ready yourself for work.  You may find yourself in a puddle (ha...you see what I did there right?) shivering and sobbing in a fetal position on the floor when your husband starts pounding on the bathroom door complaining that he's late and he's gotta get ready too for Pete's sake.

 

But at least if it does happen you can reach up and grab some toilet paper for your nose.  If you've remembered to change the roll of course.

 

But again...that's just a hypothetical.


The Name

I was thinking the other day, while driving in my car, about the name of Jesus.  More specifically, I was thinking about the honor and the privilege that I have in being able to speak it with boldness and confidence.

I was thinking what a wonder it is that I'm allowed to breathe out the syllables of His name at all. 

I can't really explain it, but I bet if you got alone by yourself for a minute and closed your eyes and really concentrated on Jesus and Him alone for a few minutes...you'd begin to possibly understand the magnitude of what I'm speaking about here.

Jesus is awesome, and awe-inspiring...not to mention Holy.  To be in His presence is to not only be instantly filled with love and adoration, but also horror.  Horror at the sin that has now been made glaringly apparent in His light.

Imperfections that once seemed minor and inconsequential are now unmasked for what they truly are...pure, stinking, rotting death.  Separation, rebellion, disobedience.  Evil.

Surely someone with such defilements would be completely reviled by The Holy One.  Someone who bitterly rages about having to forgive that certain someone over and over while blithely overlooking her own shortcomings and need for constant forgiveness...that type of hypocrisy would most certainly be shunned by The Eternal right?

Instead, we are granted the unspeakable grace of being allowed into His Presence at the merest whisper of His Name, and when the Light shines on all those imperfections, we are offered a trade. 

Our weakness for His strength. 

Our frailties and disease for His wholeness and healing.

Our utter depravity for His righteousness.

On and on the list goes.  His goodness knows no end and His kindness endures from generation to generation.

There is only one catch to this whole deal.

We must choose to trade.  We cannot knowingly hold onto evil with one hand and expect to touch His heart with the other.

We must choose.

I'm sure you've noticed the silence here at Mimi and Butterbean these past few months.  Perhaps someday I'll be able to share about it all, but at this time, part of my choosing means letting all of what has passed...go. 

And so...once again I breathe The Name of Names. 

It is at once a prayer and a praise, for things I'm letting go of, and the things I will receive in this ridiculously upside-down trade.

Pray with me?  Choose with me?

Let's let what has passed in the old year go its way.  And as we breathe in and out, uttering the Holiest of Holies, may we let the Light wash over us and fill us with joy and hope for the new year to come.

The Season Of Shut Yer Mouth

Well...y'all...Mimi has been going through a time.  A time.

*insert deep dramatic sigh here*

On a lighter note, I have discovered that I'm somewhat in love with Duck Dynasty.

Have you seen it yet?  Oh my word if not, then please do all you can do to clear your schedule and take a gander.  It's a hoot.  It's clean, funny, and for once, there's not a bunch of scantily-clad 40-ish women doing all they can to destroy one another's weave.

So.

As I type, a Duck Dynasty marathon is on and I've laughed more this evening than I have in a while.

Because...did I mention I've been going through a time?  To say I've been a bit concerned and a little on edge lately would unfortunately be an understatement.  And to make matters worse, the lesson for Mimi through all of this hand-wringing and teeth-gnashing has been to keep her mouth shut.

Which is not exactly something I'm familiar with, all bloggy evidence to the contrary.

And if I go a bit further here and be really brutally honest here...my real problem hasn't been my circumstances...my real problem has been me.

I still have a control issue.

The good news is...I am making strides and while I've suffered a lot of defeat...I've also had some small victories.

So yay God.  You're awesome and Holy and Wonderful and all that I need.  You're faithful when I'm faithless and have patiently endured my raging and tenderly calmed my fears.  I am Yours...I belong to You...do with me and mine as You see fit.

And oh...if You could somehow arrange a meeting between me and Phil and Miss Kay...that would help to heal a lot of wounds.  Because they own lots and lots of guns, Jesus...and I have a feeling Imma need one soon.

Just kidding.

Sort of.