When I used to live in Georgia with my husband and he traveled, I couldn't sleep. I would set the house alarm, wait until I was so exhausted that I could not keep my eyes open, then turn on a few lights, double check the locks on the door, and go to bed. I would climb into the middle of the bed (so no one could "get me"), laying perfectly still on my back, listening to every sound the house made. It was miserable.

But when he would come home, I never gave a single thought to the locks on the door, or the lights, or the house alarm. I just comfortably climbed into my bed and went to sleep. Nothing else in my life had changed. My husband was home. That was it.

Then I moved to Texas without my husband. I haven't slept really well in months. I'm not "afraid" anymore, but my body just knows that something isn't quite right.

Today, in my Bible study, I realized that what isn't "quite right" is that I just simply miss the presence of my husband. His very presence makes me feel safe and secure. His presence is so calming that I can go about life with a peaceful spirit.

It was this picture of missing my husband that made me think about what it looks like to be desperate for God. When I know deep down inside that something isn't quite right, I am missing the presence of God. The powerful presence of the Holy Spirit. I dont' know about the theology of that. I'm not trying to be careful about saying whether or not God is "always there." I'm just saying I am aware when I do not sense the presence of God. It is His presence that comforts and calms me. It is not what he can give me, or His answers to my questions, it is His presence.

All that to say, I will wait in the cleft of the mountain for you to pass by Lord.

In Need of Dance Lessons

Have you ever been at a wedding, or some other social event, and you are watching people out on the dance floor doing a line dance, and suddenly, without warning, you find yourself out on the floor trying to figure the whole thing out? Some of the steps come naturally to you (especially if you are my age, because almost ALL line dances include some form of "The Hustle.") But some of the steps are a little more complicated and for a while you feel like a baby giraffe, all legs and no rhythm. You watch everyone else dancing with grace and ease (okay maybe not grace, but they look like they're having fun), but you just seem to keep struggling. Gradually the steps come to you though, and just about the time you think you've got it, the music is over.

Lately, that's what my relationship with God feels like. Some of the steps come naturally. I feel like I've done them before, hundreds of times. But some of them I just can't seem to get. I look at everyone else and they seem to be getting it, or at least they are putting on a good show, but I'm struggling. My legs go one way and my body goes another. Or maybe a better way of saying it is my head tells me to do one thing and my heart tells me to do another. Or if I want to be super spiritual, I can say that God tells me to do one thing and the enemy tells me to do another, and I end up doing a mixture of both because I can't discern the voice of God.

WELL, (I know you were hoping I would have a point soon) in my Bible study "Discerning the Voice of God" I read something this morning that seemed to pull it all together for me. The author says, "As I seek to hear God's voice, do I really desire to hear what His purposes are, or do I just desire to pursue my own and HOPE for His blessing?" I confess there are times, many times, when I lay out my plans, present them to the Lord like I am at a big Jesus and Me board meeting, and then He smiles at me from His Board of Director's chair, as if to say, "you're a good planner, Carol, keep up the good work."

As usual, it comes back around to pride. I want my own way and I want God to bless it. I might be asking God to guide me, but what I am really saying is, "Here are my plans, Lord, will you bless them?" When I ask for discernment, what I am really saying is, "Lord, will you show me how to get my way?"

Ephesians 2:10 says, "We are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so that we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." He created me new in Jesus, so that I can do what? . . . the good things that HE PLANNED for me long ago. It's not that difficult Carol, not that difficult.

All that to say, I need some dance lessons.

New Blog for Parents

Okay, for a long time now people have told me that I need to "write a book" about parenting. I don't know how to write a book.

But, I do like to blog. So I have a new blog called Just for Parents. You can find it at

I don't know how it will work, but if you have parenting questions, you can post them as a comment. I will take your comment and make a new blog out of it.

All that to say, Check it out. :)

The Run Around

Don't you just hate "the run around?" It doesn't even matter who gives you "the run around," you're going to hate it. Simply the name THE RUN AROUND, is frustrating. Here, let me help you out. Go outside, lick an envelope while running around in a circle, again and again and again and again until you fall over. Now, add to that a paper cut on your tongue, a sprained ankle and a ripped toenail. That's what THE RUN AROUND feels like. ANNOYING, or worse.

Today, I got THE RUN AROUND twice. First, it came from my gym in Georgia. I seriously feel like I am stuck in an episode of Friends. I moved from Georgia to Texas. In Georgia, where I signed my gym membership contract, if you move more than 25 miles away from your gym, they have to cancel your contract. Well, I moved here SEVEN MONTHS AGO, and I have been trying to quit the gym ever since. Believe it or not, I have been turned over for collection and am harrassed on a weekly basis over my "non-payment." The collection agency tells me that the gym has to authorize the cancellation of my membership. The gym tells me that their holding company has to authorize it. The holding company says they have nothing to do with it. So, once a week I call North Georia Athletic Club to talk to Mike to cancel my membership. But it's still not cancelled and I'm still being harrassed weekly. Seriously, I just want to quit the gym!

Then, I received an email notification telling me that my son's college graduation announcements had been shipped! Woo Hoo! But then I noticed the "ship to" address was wrong. So I called the company. They told me I needed to call UPS and correct the address. UPS told me I needed to call the shipper. I called the shipper back and they told me, "Well it's not our fault. Someone is going to have to pay the $10 for this mistake." To which I replied, "Well how about the person slash company who made the mistake? That sounds like pretty decent customer service." To which the shipper replied, "Ma'am, you don't have to get upset. If you will just call UPS, they will take care of this for you." I called UPS, they told me . . . the shipper had to take care of it. They could not change an address based on a phone call from me because I could be anyone. I said, "You're right. I could be some crazy psycho trying to steal graduation announcements! It's a crazy scheme! mwahhhhhh (scary laugh)" They didn't think I was too funny either. They did, however, suggest that I drive to downtown Houston, show my i.d. and see if the service center would give me the package. Seriously.

But, alas, I saw the UPS man today. I told him my problem and he offered me such a nice solution. He suggested that I call UPS because he was sure that they would gladly handle this for me.

All that to say, I am still a gym member (card carrying) and still don't have graduation announcements. Oh, and, in case I didn't mention it, I am not a fan of the freaking RUN AROUND!!!!

What Does Desperate Look Like

No funny story today, just a question, a heartfelt question. What does desperate look like? I ask this question because I am in a Bible Study called "Discerning the Voice of God," and in it the author asks "Are you desperately seeking God or desperately seeking what God will do for you?"

I've been thinking about this question lately because I don't know that I know how to just be desperate for God. I have thought about it a lot. I have thought about times that I was desperate for God and in all of those instances I have been desperate for answers, or desperate for the healing hand of God, or desperate for a change of circumstances. Even people I know who have been desperate for God lately, I would say, from my vantage point, were desperate for God's "action" (though maybe they have something different to say, and I would welcome their input).

So, I have tried to take this to a human level, because, well . . . I'm human. I thought of people in my life for whom I am desperate. I know that I am desperate for my husband. Not for what he can do for me, just for him. My heart desperately loves him. I go through my day without him, and I function quite well alone, but I don't like it and I don't want to continue it any longer. I am desperate for my children. I cannot picture my life without them. I would be heartbroken if something happened in our life that would cause us not to seek one another.

So, now that I can say I understand a "desperate" relationship, I'm trying to make that connection with God. I think I have been trained (not blaming anyone here, just saying) by the church to communicate with God in an answer-to-my-prayer-seeking relationship. I'm almost embarrassed to say at this point in my faith that I don't know that I know how to have a different kind of relationship with Him. I'm not even afraid that He's going to strike me with some terrible affliction or allow some disaster to befall me so that I will learn my desperate lesson, because I think I would then just be desperate for answers or intervention again.

I've had plenty of moments in my relationship with God where I just sat in His presence and enjoyed the moment. Maybe more of "those" moments would teach me something about being desperate. I don't know. Maybe I'm just confused about the difference. I can't picture my life without God. I don't want to displease Him, or dishonor Him, or disobey Him.

All that to say, I'm sincerely just asking, "What Does Desperate Look Like?"

Spray On Tans

Well, as I am sure you guessed by the title, I got a spray tan. I want to begin by saying, it is true, fat does look WAY better tanned. I mean, SERIOUSLY better. So maybe those of you reading this who know sweet cheeks can console yourselves and say "maybe she just had a really great tan." Anywho0 (that was for you Tracey) back to my story. I got a spray tan and I have learned a few things.

One, when they tell you to rub the lotion on your hands really good. Do it. You do not want to end up with funky colored palms and knuckles.
Two, be prepared that they prefer you not to wear a top. In fact, interesting statistic I learned is that 99.999 percent of most people wear underwear on the bottom and nuttin' on the top. For those of you on whom gravity has taken it's toll, don't worry, they have "tricks" for hitting all the areas.
Three, wear DARK and incredibly loose clothes. Anyplace your clothes really touch you, oh say, like a shelf bra in a cami, will wipe that stuff right off.
Four, anyplace you perspire causes the "tan" to disappear. Think about where most women sweat (where they spray on the stuff) and you will get the picture.
Five, when they tell you to shower before hand and to be sure you don't have any lotion on anywhere, DO IT! I missed a spot right at my neckline, and a couple of places on my bobbly bits, so I have funny little tan lines, but at least no one will see those.
Six, if you are WHITE, don't tell them you want medium coverage because you will come out looking like you spent 6 months at sea in Cancun, with no sunblock.
Seven, they tell you to sleep in long pants and a long sleeve shirt. It's for a reason. That stuff comes off all over your sheets! But, it launders right out.

Now here comes the scary part. You cannot shower for a minimum of 6 hours afterward. You can't sweat, touch water, not anything that would cause you to get wet. It takes that long for the dye (that's what it is) to really process (which is their lingo for "soak into your pores.") So, the six hours passed . . . really 12 because I did it at 8 p.m. and showered at 8 a.m. When you shower, it scares the poop out of you because you suddenly see brown rivers of "tan" washing down the drain and you think two things . . . "is this gonna stain my shower" and "what am I going to look like when I get out!?" I look okay, don't panic. But when you get out, you cannot AIR DRY. You have to pat yourself dry all over and then immediately apply lotion to your body.

All that to say, I should have been content to be white. Oh, PS, I am not actually white, I am pink. I know this now because when I am tanned (which I have never been THIS tan in my life) it makes my "white skin" all pink. Weird huh, or TMI?

My Mind and My Heart Don't Match

Sometimes my mind and my heart don't match. My mind tells me one thing and my heart tells me another. Does that ever happen to you? My mind will tell me that something is true, and my heart will tell me it isn't. Or my mind will tell me something isn't real and my heart will tell me it is. I believe that my heart is usually right. I believe that my mind can be deceived, but my heart cannot.

Notice the Bible says, "For where your treasure is, there your HEART will be also?" Because the things we value most, we hold in our heart, not our mind. I have no idea why I am being so philosophical. But these are my thoughts tonight.

All that to say, I am thinking a lot lately about faith and life, and prayer, and hope, and the Holy Spirit, and miracles. I am thinking about doubt and fear. I am thinking about who God is.

Rough Start

Today I had to be at work early for an early meeting. I decided to stop and pick up some kolaches for my team. For my non-Texan friends, kolaches are this food typically sold at donut shops. They are some sort of meat (I go for the little smokie sausages with cheese) wrapped in fresh baked bread. Very yummy. Anyway, I placed my order in the drive-thru, paid, and then realized they had given me SAUSAGE and cheese kolaches, not little smokie sausages and cheese . . . BIG DIFFERENCE. So, I politely (no really!) tell the guy he gave me the wrong thing and he told me, "I gave you what you ordered." So much for the customer always being right.

Then, I leave that place (with the correct food . . . HA! The customer prevails!) and turn onto the feeder road to get onto the interstate. Well, the woman behind me turns really wide and zooms over into the on ramp lane. I put on my turn signal and speed up to get over into the on ramp lane as well. She Speeds Up. I go faster. She Goes FASTER. I GO FASTER. SHE GOES FASTER! By this point, she is going like 60 to keep me from getting into the on ramp lane. Keep in mind, she made an illegal turn to get into the lane she is trying to keep me out of!! So I step on my breaks, slow down to window level with her and am yelling (sorry . . . seriously glad I didn't have a Jesus fish on my car) at her saying, "Are you seriously going to ignore the fact that I have on my turn signal, and speed up to 60mph just to keep me from getting on the interstate? What is that gonna cost you, like 2 seconds?" She sheepishly grins, and waves me over. I get over feeling totally vindicated. Right Prevails again. (Okay, maybe not right, but score one for little cars). Anyway, I realize that she is still behind me as I am exiting the freeway. She is still behind me as I turn onto my destination street. She is still behind me as I turn toward my church parking lot (oops). It's a bit embarrassing to get mad at someone in your car and then have to face them in a parking lot. It was a rough start to my Monday for sure.

All that to say, I learned two things today. Avoid the drive-thru. It isn't faster. And, don't have road rage. It just doesn't help anything.

I Should Have Stayed Home

I just went shopping at Wal-mart, the one at the front of The Woodlands, and if you live in The Woodlands, you know what that means. I got a great parking space, so I had high hopes of a good experience.

I started by returning my rented DVD to the REDBOX. Seriously, that thing is awesome. I have no idea how they can make any money renting DVD's for a $1, but they really are only a dollar. I watched August Rush. It was great. But, I had to wait in line for two different people, who seemed unsure of how to slide a credit card, make a selection, and then go. And, did I mention I have been sick for a week, have no energy, and can't stand in one place too long without feeling like I'm going to faint? So, picture me standing in line behind not one, but two people who are not technologically savvy. I did lots of deep breathing, which either made them think I was a pervert, or that I was incredibly impatient.

I finally returned my movie, and went inside the store and the WalMart "greeter" tried to give me a basket, but it was stuck to another basket. It would have been rude to reach around him and get my own basket, so instead I stood there, not sure whether to help him or just watch him struggle. I chose the latter, combined with more deep breathing. Really I was just trying not to pass out.

I went through the store fairly quickly, only forgetting the toothpaste, and then headed for the checkout. Didn't there used to be some rule at WalMart about having less than 3 people in line at a time? If so, that rule was not in effect. I was the 4th person in line. It's funny what you notice when you don't feel good, and don't feel like standing in line. I actually found myself getting angry at the couple two people in front of me with a million cans of cat food and dog food. Didn't they know I wasn't feeling well? Didn't they know I couldn't stand in one place for long without passing out? Did they really have to pick today to buy all tiny little cans of food that were going to have to be scanned one at a freaking time?

Finally, the woman in front of me was getting checked out (in the cashier to food kind of way, nothing creepy) and I started unloading my basket. But as she finished, her credit card wouldn't go through. She told the cashier to try it again, and again, and again. The cashier told her it wasn't accepted and she insisted it was. This went back and forth for what seemed like an ETERNITY. I leaned over the handle of my basket, put my head down on my arms, breathing deeply, and trying really hard not to pass out. It entered my head that maybe I should just abandon the basket and go home, but I was so close! FINALLY, the cashier suggested that maybe the woman should try a different credit card and VOILA! Yay!

Apparently though, my deep breathing and laying over my basket gave the cashier the impression that I was quite put out with how long it took her to check out the other customers. She apologized so many times for how long it took her. I really wanted to tell her that I was just sick and having trouble not fainting, but then I thought she would be freaked out that she was having to check out a sick person, so I let her think I was just rude and impatient. Maybe I was.

All that to say, I should have stayed home. I didn't need groceries that badly. And PS, this virus is horrible. I am ready to be well. And, I'm sorry to all the people that I probably made sick at the WalMart. My husband is coming to see me tomorrow and I sure don't want to make him sick.


Today I have been thinking about this young girl that I knew growing up. We were little girls when we met. I think I was 9 and she was 8. For most of our lives I envied her. She was fun and boisterous. I was quiet and shy. She had flawless olive skin that tanned beautifully. I had fair skin and freckles that only turned different shades of red. Her parents were wealthy and gave her everything she could have ever wanted. Mine were poor and struggled just to give me what I needed.

We were the best of friends when we were little, but as we grew older, I think we pretended at being friends. I really wanted to be her. She had wavy hair that sprung to life at the slightest hint of humidity. I had bone straight hair that hung lifelessly to the middle of my back. And our bodies matched our hair styles. She was wavy and I was straight. Oh how often I wished my body looked like hers.

When we became teenagers, she developed into a gorgeous swan that all the boys loved. I, however, was slow to develop, in all areas, including a personality. I was painfully, painfully shy. And perhaps the greatest mystery of all, the greatest thing to envy, was that every boy I ever confessed to like ended up her boyfriend. That was hard to take. It happened for years.

Then, when we were in high school, I had a boyfriend. My very first boyfriend. He was tall and cute and popular. Just like she was. But he was mine. It was time for our prom. And I was so excited. I ran into her house one day after school to tell her that I just couldn't wait for the prom. Truthfully, it was finally my chance to rub her nose in the fact that I had the cute boyfriend. But she wasn't there. Her mom met me, looking surprised to see me, and when I asked where she was, her mom said she was "out." When I heard the car in the driveway, I ran outside just in time to see her kissing my boyfriend goodbye.

At that moment, I think maybe I hated them both. I don't know. Why am I writing all of this? Because today I watched the "Last Lecture"
and one of the things he talked about was how what you hang onto affects the rest of your life.
I have hung onto that memory for a long time. Far too long.

I married the man of my dreams. We have two fantastic sons and a great life. I really couldn't have asked for more.

All that to say, I think I will take an inventory of what else I've hung onto that I need to let go of.


I went to the doctor today. I haven't felt good for a couple of days, and thought I might have the flu, so I went in to be sure. Turns out, I do not have the flu. I know this for a fact because they stuck a stick so far up my nose that I think they touched the back of my throat. Apparently this is necessary to find out if you have the flu or not. I guess if you survive the experience then you don't have the flu, because I survived it, and I don't have the flu. I did however consider punching the nurse . . . but then I thought, what would Jesus do, and well . . .

Anyway, I have a terrible headache. (That's how it started on Monday). Followed by ACHES all over, deep in my bones, and chills. Then I have a temperature of 95 followed by a temperature of a 100.5 and back and forth that goes, all day long and all night long. All of that would be bearable, but on day two, the weakness arrived. I am so weak, I can hardly walk across the room without feeling the need to sit down quickly. And now my blood pressure has dropped to 80 over 54, instead of its steady 110 over 80.

My office mate, Tracey, has the same thing. Only, her symptoms showed up a day before mine. So at least I know what to look forward to.

All that to say, my doc says I should consider myself contagious. Really?


I am sort of tired of myself. That sounds weird doesn't it? Some might call it discontentment. (is that even a word?) Some might call it malaise. (that's what doctors call it when you don't feel good, but you can't really put your finger on what feels bad). I'm generally content with my body, my self-image, my weight, etc. But for some reason, right now, I am not.

I don't really like this feeling. I can see how having a poor body image can drive you to do stupid things (don't worry, I'm not headed for anything stupid). But in general, I'm tired of myself. I'm tired of my bones not healing. I'm tired of them breaking. I'm tired of my eating habits and my lack of exercise, and the size of my back pockets . . . sounded nicer than butt. I'm tired of not feeling good. Maybe, just maybe, if I would eat better and exercise more, I would feel better. Duh.

I think way too much about what I look like lately, which is not something that has ever been a struggle for me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like to look cute in my clothes. But it's not ever been something I have really obsessed about. But as evidenced by this blog today, I am apparently obsessing.

You'd think being sick of myself would keep me out of the Oreo bag, but no. And, I have not yet been deterred from fountain cokes, french fries, or nachos. Yesterday, when I was driving home, I was actually thinking about the barbeque potato chips in my pantry. OH MY GOSH! I need a hobby. Or maybe I need a home and a husband.

All that to say, I need someone to tell me to stop eating, start exercising, stop drinking soda, start drinking water, and stop bringing home junk food from the store! Mike, I would not recommend you being the one to tell me though. Oh, and if you happen to have a treadmill you are using as a clothes rack, can I borrow it?

What Difference Does it Make?

I have been thinking about praying a lot lately. Mostly because a friend and I have been talking about prayer, and what difference it makes. It is difficult, sometimes, to reconcile that God is unchanging, and yet He changes His mind . . . or does He? Because if He changes His mind, then He isn't unchanging. But if He doesn't change His mind, then what is the point of praying?

In Exodus 32:14 it says, "So the Lord changed His mind about the harm which He said He would do to His people." (His people, the Israelites, after they were delivered from Egypt and after they worshiped at the Golden calf.)

All that to say, I wonder what you think? Does prayer change things?


Just got home from the 220 Crew Retreat. It was good. Some good time reflecting about what a restored life looks like. Some good time praying for one another.

Standard 220 stuff: Laughter, silliness, daring James to do random stuff (catch a duck . . .) JD shrieking like a girl, late LATE nights, junk food, tears. Oh, and a t-shirt!

Challenged my thinking: Brittany told a story about being in a foreign country wearing a "christian" t-shirt. Someone asked her if she was a "real Christian" or something like that. And then asked, are you a Christian who prays or who leads? There was some commentary following that story about putting that on a t-shirt. Not a fan. Don't mind my thinking being challenged, but I don't know, it almost feels like you have to choose, praying or leading. Left with a choice, I think there is only one.

Bible Thoughts: Three examples of people seeking Jesus.
John 6:20 The crowds sought him because He had previously fed them. They were NOT seeking Him because he was Jesus, not for who he was, but for what he could do. They even asked him for another miracle!
Mark 5:21 Jairus' daughter was dying and he knew that Jesus could help him. He knew this was one thing he couldn't fix on his own. So he asked Jesus to come to his house and heal his daughter. But Jesus got distracted by a woman who touched his garment, and by the time he got to Jairus' daughter, she had died. But he raised her from the dead and THEN told her parents (and his three disciples who were there) not to say anything. ???
Mark 5:25 The woman with the issue of blood had tried everything, doctors, etc., had spent all her money trying to get better and had only gotten worse. She knew that if she could only get close enough to Jesus she would be healed.

The question these stories make me ask myself: Which one am I? Am I the one who seeks Him just for what I want, or do I seek Him only when I know I can't fix it myself, or do I seek Him only after I have exhausted all other options? AND if He reveals himself and His power, how do I respond to that? Do I say, "well show me something else now!", like the first group did. Or, do I fall at his feet like the woman did when she was healed,? Or do I take it all in quietly, holding the mystery, and walk in what He has done, like Jairus?

Good questions to ask.

All that to say, I am always amazed at the moments in which God reveals Himself.

Broken and Junk

I am still broken. My arm that is. Well, sort of. I went back to the doc today, fully expecting to get my brace off and be set free to live a life unencumbered by velco and straps and hard plastic. (That sounds weird.) But no.

Instead, I didn't pass my x-ray test. Seems my bones didn't feel like growing this month. So, it's another month in the brace. (Lot-t-t-s of thoughts running through my head right here.) And, I got a whopping shot of steroids right into my shoulder. (More thoughts) John said, "There goes your pitching career." Such compassion.

Then, ole Doc Price (he's not really old) told me if I don't grow some bone in the next four weeks then he's gonna put me under, suck some bone marrow out of my hip and squirt it all up in my arm (lot-t-t-s more thoughts running through my head.).

And did I mention the shocky thingy? Yeah, I'm getting one of those too. They are going to put one on my arm and "stimulate" the bone to grow. Doesn't that sound fun? So to recap: Still held hostage by the brace $269, shot of hell in the shoulder $850, giant needle going in my hip bone $12,000, awaiting shock treatment on my arm, priceless. Just priceless

All that to say, I am still broken and junk. But my coworkers bought me a white chocolate macadamia nut cheesecake from Cheesecake Factory. It was supposed to be for my "coming out" party. But instead, we just ate it like comfort food. It was good. Shoe shopping good.

More Stupid Things

First, I need to explain the "panties on their head" comment from yesterday's blog. When I was little, my grandma would get her hair done on a regular basis at the beauty shop. When she would go to bed at night, she would put her silk panties on her head to keep her hair from getting messed up at night. But, I didn't know WHY she did this when I was little, so I just thought all old ladies wore panties on their heads.

So, onto more stupid things people say. I hate it when people use buzz phrases until they are DEAD DEAD DEAD. For example, "American Christianity" or "Christianity in America." I'm really tired of that one. I've heard tons of versions of the phrase. "Americanized Christianity," "Selfish American Christianity," "American Christians," etc. It's rude. Stop saying it. I know what you mean by it. Don't comment and try to explain what you mean by it.

Other DEAD phrases . . .
Been there, done that, got the t-shirt
I KNOW there are more. What are the ones you hate?

I'm Allergic to Late Nights

I was driving home tonight . . . home to my Sr. Adult Living community. It was close to midnight, so pulling into the community, I felt pretty sure that sirens would sound and lights would flash, and old ladies with panties on their heads would be standing next to their bathrobe wearing husbands staring me down with shame as I pulled into my driveway. That didn't happen.

Anyway, I wasn't real far from home, maybe a fifteen minute drive, but I was tired. I wasn't swerving on the road or anything that dramatic, but I sat at a stop sign waiting for the light to turn green for quite some time. Turns out stops signs don't change colors no matter how long you sit there. I laughed at myself and decided I must have a lot on my mind, then continued my drive home. Soon I came to an actual red light, got in the left turn lane and waited for the light to turn green, for real this time. The lights to go straight turned green, but it was several moments later before the green arrow came on. Again, I sat there. Just sat there. Staring at the green arrow and not going. Suddenly it dawned on me that the light was green, and I turned.

As I turned, I thought, I must be allergic to late nights, because my brain is too fuzzy to comprehend when I should stay and when I should go. (sorry, but right now my brain is singing, should I stay or should I go . . . you just sang it in your mind too didn't you?) I'd love to tell you that I only did this twice, but I did it several more times. The best moment was when I saw the school zone sign, slowed to 35 and then realized I was going 35 mph in a school zone at midnight.

All that to say, I have decided that perhaps I should not drive late at night. It's just not wise.

People Don't Mean to Be Stupid

I was at my girls (young women's) Bible Study tonight and we started talking about stupid things that people say, including us. I was saying that I wanted to write a skit about how inappropriately people use spiritual cliche's. Like maybe having a woman running down the street screaming that her house was on fire, and trying to get people to help her. But all the people she stopped would say things like, "It's okay honey, because the Lord won't give you more than you can handle," or "Well don't you worry about that fire because God won't close a door without opening a window."

In and of themselves, these are true statements, but sometimes, we as believers, as Christ followers, throw out (or throw up) these truths as life lines, instead of actually loving like Christ loved and getting our hands and feet dirty and helping. Anyway different blog.

So, our conversation about cliche's led us to talking about other things people say and that led to a conversation of mixed metaphors. I am horrible about mixing my metaphors (read Accutely Aware in my earlier blogs). One girl said that she doesn't mix her metaphors, she just uses them at the wrong time. Her example was saying, "Well, I gotta go see a man about a horse." She thought it meant that she had somewhere to go, but apparently the people she said it to thought it meant that she needed to pee. What does this saying mean? Comment if you know, because I thought it meant you had somewhere to go also.

Finally our conversation ended in how we all (yes, even those of us in the group) say well meaning but stupid things to people who are in difficult places in life. Some examples, writing in a sympathy card for a woman who had just lost her teenage son, "Well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Or saying to a young woman who just lost a baby, "Well, at least you're young, you can still have more kids."

All that to say, I'm curious. So, what is the dumbest thing that anyone has ever said to you, or you have said to someone else?