Friday Fixin's

Well.

Last night Butterbean decided to show me she could handle a sitting position without any help from me.  She looked like a bobble-head doll with a permanently surprised expression on it's face but she was determined.  She threw vanity to the wind and perservered.

Which means that in about 2.3 seconds she'll be crawling and we all know what that leads to.  Yep...the dreaded teen years.  The point where she will suddenly know everything and yet she will still manage to look utterly confused and dumbfounded when asked to pick her dirty laundry up off the floor.

When that happens she will thereafter be known as Her Mama's Child. 

Until then though she's just Butterbean.

Sitting up means that story time is about to get lots more interesting.  I like the bible I have for her right now, but Butterbean likes to touch and taste EVERYTHING.  So I'd like to get a line on a cloth bible for her that doesn't cost an arm and a leg.

I checked out a few on Amazon and was blown away by how much they cost. 

Now...at this point I know some of you might be thinking, "Geez lady...she's just a BABY for crying out loud.  Why is reading the bible such a big DEAL?  Are you just trying to score brownie points with the Big Man?"

My response to that is...y'all haven't met my church's Junior Bible Quiz team. 

They are ages 6-12 and they are ruthless.  They won the state tournament.  They eat baby bibles for BREAKFAST!!!  So just teaching Butterbean to recite "Jesus wept" isn't gonna cut it with these kids.  She's gotta be ready for them.  And if ol' Mimi has anything to say about it...she will be.  Oh yes, she will be.

Aaaand I'd also like 'Bean to be full of the Word.  So that if she's ever in trouble and needs guidance or wisdom, it will already be there..in her spirit.  Because that's kind of important. 

As for the brownie points...no comment.

I've really been enjoying your comments and swappin' "recipes" on Friday Fixins!  So keep those cards and letters comin' y'all!

Dear Adele...I'm Breaking Up With You

It's true.

It appears that we have been "Rollin' In The Deep" a little longer than we should have.

I realize this break-up will have absolutely no effect on you whatsoever, being as you're busy being the most celebrated female singer in the world and I am nowhere near being in the same universe of famous as you are.  Plus there's the tiny little fact that you have no idea I even exist...but overlooking that, we were sisters of the SOUL, Adele. Sisters of the soul.

You'd been hurt.  You'd been jilted by someone you loved and adored...and you weren't about to take it lying down.  No sir-ree.  Instead of doing what normal people do and updating your status on Facebook...you sat yourself down at a piano and poured every drop of your hurt into some songs and TOLD THE WORLD.

And the world listened.  And sang along.

And oh how I loved to crank up the volume in my car and wail along with you and in my mind think "Yeah...you tell'em sister.  We aren't taking this kind of stuff off anybody EVER AGAIN!"

And I'd feel powerful and goddess-like for a few moments.  Then the cd would end and I'd just be mad.  Again.  Stirred up by all those feelings of angst and disappointment and heartbreak.

Then I would wonder why I was so stressed out.

Truth be told, you're a tiny symptom of a huge problem of mine which I'm only just coming to terms with.  It's called unforgiveness.  Since writing those songs and blowing the world away with your talent, you have probably moved on to bigger and better things.  But me, Adele?  I'm left with all the broken emotions of those songs...and the lyrics which are now in my head for years to come.

A dear friend of mine suggested I read a book called "Total Forgiveness" by R.T. Kendall.  Mr. Kendall posits that true forgiveness means not continuing to stir up those bad feelings and memories.  True forgiveness means not tattle-telling on people who have wronged you.  And no matter how much I admire your gumption, your beauty, and your talent...let's face it Adele...that cd is one big tattletale.

So, it is with great sadness and longing that I must give you up.  No...no...don't try to say anything. 

Merle Haggard is next and I need my strength for that one.

Adieu,

Mimi Supreme

Ask God A Stupid Question, And He'll Give You A Great Answer

God and I have quite a few conversations in the car.  Usually when I'm driving home from work and I'm trying to gear up the energy to put my "Mom of Excellence" and "Mimi Supreme" and "Wife Extraordinaire" hats on.

(It's ok...you can laugh.  God did too when He heard those titles.)

For some strange reason I was thinking about the day I would stand before God face to face.  I wondered what sort of mistakes would be pointed out to me and whether I would see my sad, crinkled up life lined up against God's "Perfect Plan A."

I thought to myself..."Lord, what is the stuff You'll be mad at me for?"

Quicker than a wink I heard a response in my heart.

He said, "Not the stuff you think it will be."

His answer sort of stopped me in my tracks. (Not literally...I mean I was driving, and mind you I love Jesus but I want to see Him when it's TIME to see Him and not as the result of a 5 car pile-up.)

And for those of you who couldn't read past the thought, "God is mad at me," please understand...I don't really think He's mad at me.  It was just the most relevant word I could think of at the moment.  Truly, the Lord knows my heart and understands where I am coming from...what He was really saying is that I'm paying attention to things that don't have any eternal significance, and ignoring the things that do.

In other words, how much stuff have I worried about that means absolutely nothing in the Kingdom of God?   How much time have I wasted on behavior modification when I should have been submitting myself to a heart transplant?

To be honest, I don't want to know. I think the answer would make me sit down and cry for a long, long time.

Slowly but surely, God is pulling this little girl's fingers out of her ears, and opening her eyes to see that life is not nearly as sad and bitter as the lies she has swallowed.  There are still great times to be had, full of joy and sweetness and new beginnings.

I won't lie to you and say that this new awakening comes easily or without cost. Sometimes it's bloody and hard and a type of death has to occur so that hope can live and breathe freely.

The bible calls this process "renewing my mind," among other things.

All these fruitless concerns are too heavy for me to carry anymore.  I think I'll shrug them off and shift my focus to things that matter to God. Like, loving Him with all my heart, my soul and my might, and loving my neighbor as I love myself.

I think those two ideas are enough to keep me occupied for the rest of my life.

(I realize a lot of this post has some abstract concepts and there's a lot of use of ambiguous words like "things" and "stuff" but that's the best I can describe it without making you want to stab your eyeballs with a spork at the detailed inanity of my existence.)

(You can thank me for sparing you and your eyeballs later.)

A Conversation With Butterbean

This summer, my husband and I have been grilling out.  Every night.  We love it because the food is awesome, the temperature in the kitchen doesn't increase to 50,000 degrees, and (added bonus) my husband handles the grill so it's almost like I don't have to do anything.

I don't know why I didn't think of this before.

Butterbean and her mommy stopped by the other night for some of the grilled goodness and 'Bean sat with us at the table.  She and I had a mental conversation that went something like this:

Butterbean: Hiiii Mimi!  Boy, that steak looks good!  How's about letting me try some?

Me: Ummm, well seeing as you still have very few teeth I don't think that's a very good idea.

Butterbean: Silence...pitiful stare...

Me: See...I...it's like this...don't look at me like that...I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!! ASK YOUR MOTHER!!!

Butterbean: Oh come on! We don't need to involve Mommy in this! We both know who the REAL boss around here is...

Me: Complete silence...chewing nervously...avoiding eye contact.

Butterbean: *In awed voice* Gee Mimi...you sure can shovel it in! 

Me: Alright sister! Thaaat's IT! *Throws down napkin*

At this point...K steps back in:

K: 'Bean...you know better than to bother Mimi when she's eating...

K: but between you and me dear, that WAS funny...*giggle*

Butterbean: *giggle* Yeah, it was.

Me: *sigh* No respect, none what-so-ever.

Butterbean: I loooove you Mimi!

Me: *sigh* If anyone needs to find me for the next say...eighteen years, give or take...I'll be in my room. 

THE END

Merrily, Merrily, Merrily...A.K.A Dear Jesus, Please Don't Let Me Die In An Innertube

Welll...this weekend was LOADS O' FUN.  Yours truly was out in nature, enjoying all of it's splendor and being carelessly rammed into huge boulders in the name of FAMILY TIME.

Honestly, the fault was mine.  Last Thursday I was reading a blog about how few summers I have left with my son and I got all mushy and all I can say is...I claim insanity.

I hopped on the web with determination that we were going to have a GREAT TIME this weekend, and in the words of Clark Griswold...we were gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny Kaye.

(If you don't know that movie, I'll say a prayer for you tonight.  Because you are clearly in need of a cinematic education my friend.)

In the midst of the hopping and surfing and all, I came across an advertisement for a company that will allow you to get into a plastic inflated circle of death and roll on down the river.  Yes we could have all ended up as quadraplegics, but hey, it only cost 9 bucks each and if nothing else, we are all about life-threatening injuries for cheap.

Actually, what was on the forefront of my mind, and imminently more frightening (you know, more than my son's well-being and the possibility of his life being cut short) was how I was going to look getting into the stupid tube.  Because y'all...Mimi has put on a leetle poundage since her hey-day as a young and happening hipster.

Yes indeed.

And since the sun hates me, I get the added bonus of having the skin pallor of the undead.

So we rolled into the parking lot and a really bored (and tan) college guy comes out and shoves some paperwork at me that basically says, "BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...you can't sue us even if we're negligent...BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...neither can your kids, or your friends or your friends' kids...sign here and good luck not dying, and if you lose our tube, you owe us twenty bucks."

The concern for the safety and well-being of their customers just rolled off the pages.

We go to the change rooms where I tried not to think about germs and MRSA and whatnot and I squeezed into my bathing suit.  I had a nice breezy black cover-up that didn't quite cover-up what I wanted to cover-up...so for my family's added enjoyment, I put on a pair of blue striped polyester cropped pants.

Quite the fashion plate I am.

We got our tubes and got on the shuttle which drove us to the drop-off point. In what I would term as a minor miracle, I managed to successfully get on my tube with the first try.  I paddled out to the middle of the stream where my husband and son were waiting floating away and tried to follow the rules that our shuttle driver imparted to us, which were a)don't die and b)don't go down the river backwards. 

Oh well, why didn't I think of that?

So naturally out of all the floats that were available I got the broken one, because no matter how hard I tried...I floated backwards.  And it appears that the Holy Spirit may have been trying to tell me something because my float went straight for the biggest boulders in the river.  Every. Time.

My husband tried shouting helpful things to me like, "Don't try to control it!  Just go with it!"

Oh really?  Hi, do you know me?  Your wife of twenty-one years?  Helicopter mom?

Eventually though...his words got through to me.  And there was actually a second where I let myself float and didn't try to steer anything.  And for that one moment I found that it was easier if I just let go and trusted that Jesus was not about to let me die in an innertube.

I'm sure there's a life-lesson in that for me somewhere.

By the time we got to our exit point I had even worked up enough courage to ask the fam if they wanted to go again.  Even though what I really wanted to do was you know...go home.  But they were hungry and were more interested in finding food than tempting God a second time, and honey, when they told me that it was all I could do not to break out in tongues and do the Holy Ghost buck and jive. 

Which I'm sure would have given all the out-of-towners and vacationers who were there with us a lot more sight-seeing than they really wanted.

And everybody said, "Amen."

Friday Fixins

Sometimes, I like to read CNN's Belief Blog.  There are lots of opinions and thoughts about God in the world, and I like to read about what others think.

What I don't like to read are the comments.  Typically they are filled with vitriol and hate speech.  You know, the kind we Christians get accused of more and more often these days?  And usually, as I scroll down through (apparently I'm a glutton for punishment) there's the person who says that anyone who believes in God is simply uneducated and a product of their Bible-belt wielding parents.

I have to chuckle at that one.

I'm a believer. 

But I wasn't raised that way.

My Dad was in the military and we were never home.  We usually lived at the minimum 4-5 hours away from family, and sometimes more.  Like as in, living in a whole different country more.

Although my parents weren't believers, my Dad's parents were.  So the few times we were able to come home and see family, my Papaw would take me to church with him.  And in between times, he would pray for me and my brothers, and my Mom and Dad.  But there was more going on than just the church-going and the praying...there was also the every day living.

1 Corinthians 2:14-17 says this:

"¹⁴ But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. ¹⁵ For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing; ¹⁶ to the one an aroma from death to death, to the other an aroma from life to life. And who is adequate for these things? ¹⁷ For we are not like many, peddling the word of God, but as from sincerity, but as from God, we speak in Christ in the sight of God."

Paul didn't know it at the time, but he was writing about my Papaw right there.  The man exuded the aroma of Christ, and us grandkids inhaled it much like the way a drowning man gulps in oxygen.

And so, one night long ago, I knelt down in my backyard underneath a star-studded Texas sky.  And for the first time I understood that God was real.  And I was not alone.  As a result of that tiny awakening, twenty-three years later, I would watch my parents come to Christ.

But I never would have believed, if I hadn't seen faith in action in the life of my Papaw.

The fact that my children have been raised with a firm foundation under them...

The fact that their children after them will be raised with a firm foundation under them...

Started with the prayers of a humble man who often lived thousands of miles from his grand-daughter, and who usually saw her once every two years.

My whole family, and the generations that will come after, is a witness to the power of what one faithful man's testimony can bring about.

Butterbean and I, we rock and sing.  We play with fingers, and tickle tummies, and point at pretty flowers and all the while I tell her Jesus loves her.  But the telling is not enough.  There has to be the living.

My prayer today is that the living and the working and the breathing will fully live up to the task to plant the Eternal once again into new and precious ground. 

So Lord, let the aroma of You flow out of me, and let the dying breathe You in.  As You did for me, do for those I love and come into contact with.  On earth as it is in Heaven, amen.

(How do you exude Christ to your littles?  I'd love to know.  Leave a comment and let's encourage one another.)

Drool Can Be Pretty...At Least That's What I Tell Myself

Ok so SOMEbody around here is busy trying to grow teeth.  And there's lots of slobbers.  Sorry if you're sensitive to that stuff but Butterbean and I made a pact to always keep it real around here.

Two darling little pearly whites have already popped through on the bottom.  And apparently, judging by the amount of saliva being produced....all the rest of them should be coming in at the same time.

In honor of this...and because my mom works for a pediatric dentist...I'm submitting this for your enjoyment.  I hope it works.

Have a great day!