It was a beautiful day today in Texas. The weather was warm, but not miserably hot and humid as it typically is. The skies were blue, and the few clouds that were there, were light and puffy, and very, very white. So I chose to wear my new plaid cloth sandals. (very cute, J. Crew, on sale!)
As I went to the hospital to see the newest baby born to our church family, the skies started turning a little bit gray. And as I was in the hospital visiting, the once billowy white clouds turned a menacing black. Quickly I prayed over the new baby and said my goodbyes. I made it to the truck before the rain started. By the time I arrived at my destination though, it was pouring buckets, or torrents, or sheets of rain, or whatever means a helluva lot of rain to you. My friend Cathy Wolfe used to say, "Man it was a frog choker, I mean a real trash mover." Anyway, it was raining hard. And they were big BIG drops of rain.
When I got into the parking lot of my office, Cindy jumped out of the truck and ran to her car to get us two umbrellas. I was very grateful that I would not be getting soaked. As I walked quickly to my office, covered by Cindy's umbrella, I noticed that my new shoes were getting soaked. But at least the rest of me would be dry. Then suddenly, I realized that my . . .um . . . "backside" was getting wet. I could not figure out how this was possible, as I had an umbrella over my head.
Sadly, I realized it was because my bootayyy was sticking out of the umbrella's area of coverage. The rest of me was tucked nicely under the umbrella. But the apple bottom jeans were definitely out in the rain, if you know what I mean.
All that to say, my butt got soaked. While this would probably bother most women, and probably should have bothered me, I got a pretty good laugh at the fact that my butt would not fit under the umbrella.
Gonna Have to Face It I'm Addicted to Blogs
I read a lot. I read books. I read magazines. I read emails. Even the dorky forwards. I read junk mail. And I most CERTAINLY read blogs. I read tons of them. I have a few that are my favorites. But when my "favorites" don't blog for a while, I read some of the other ones that I don't get to as often.
Being the blog connoisseur that I am, I have noticed something about blogs. Most people blog very mundane things. But in their mundane, commonplace blogs, you get a picture of who they are and what is going on in their lives, and what is important to them. Some people blog their thoughts, what keeps them up at night, their faith, their trials in life, their fears. And some blog about controversy.
The "what" of blogs really does vary from blog to blog. But here is the common thread that I have found in blogs. The commenters. People rarely comment on the mundane, unless it strikes a personal chord with them. They sometimes comment on funny things like road rage or eating too much, or bad experiences in restaurants. But post a blog about anxiety in your life, something you are struggling with, something that gives people the opportunity to give advice or tell you how they "know how you feel" or something that stirs up a little controversy, and EVERYBODY (slight overstatement) has something to contribute.
I recently commented on a friend's blog, (probably for the same reasons listed above) and the commentary that ensued on her blog was a hailstorm of anger, frustration, advice, defensiveness from pretty much everyone commenting (myself included), and lots of other emotions. I don't know that I have ever been personally singled out on a comment before, so it was a new experience and not one I relished. But it did teach me something. Be careful what you write. No one can see your facial expressions. They can't hear your voice. And in the case of blogs, some of the people who are reading your words, don't know your heart.
All that to say, I think I am going to take a "commenting" hiatus. But that doesn't mean you should! wink.
Being the blog connoisseur that I am, I have noticed something about blogs. Most people blog very mundane things. But in their mundane, commonplace blogs, you get a picture of who they are and what is going on in their lives, and what is important to them. Some people blog their thoughts, what keeps them up at night, their faith, their trials in life, their fears. And some blog about controversy.
The "what" of blogs really does vary from blog to blog. But here is the common thread that I have found in blogs. The commenters. People rarely comment on the mundane, unless it strikes a personal chord with them. They sometimes comment on funny things like road rage or eating too much, or bad experiences in restaurants. But post a blog about anxiety in your life, something you are struggling with, something that gives people the opportunity to give advice or tell you how they "know how you feel" or something that stirs up a little controversy, and EVERYBODY (slight overstatement) has something to contribute.
I recently commented on a friend's blog, (probably for the same reasons listed above) and the commentary that ensued on her blog was a hailstorm of anger, frustration, advice, defensiveness from pretty much everyone commenting (myself included), and lots of other emotions. I don't know that I have ever been personally singled out on a comment before, so it was a new experience and not one I relished. But it did teach me something. Be careful what you write. No one can see your facial expressions. They can't hear your voice. And in the case of blogs, some of the people who are reading your words, don't know your heart.
All that to say, I think I am going to take a "commenting" hiatus. But that doesn't mean you should! wink.
Rank Has Its Privileges
I am the Lead Children's Pastor at my church. That is a pretty lofty title, and with it comes a tremendous amount of responsibility. Under my "umbrella of authority" (I love to say that . . . "umbrella of authority) are all of the Children's Ministry staff from all of our campuses (4 to date). It would be pretty easy to get the big head in a job like this, let me say.
On top of this amazing title, I have a private office (well, on most days it is private). If people want to see me, that have to PLAN on coming to see me. I am situated sort of "out of the way" so very few fly-bys happen with regard to visitors. I have my very own conference table, my own refrigerator, my own private window overlooking a treed gazebo. (I know you are all waiting for the punch line). All kidding aside, I really do have a nice office.
But in the keeping-me-humble department, my office is situated directly behind the men's restroom . On top of that, my return air vent goes directly into said men's restroom. So everything that happens in there, and I do mean everything, I hear. I hear cell phone conversations (it is surprising how much men talk on their cell phones while doing both #1 and #2). I hear newspaper pages turning. I hear men having arguments with their wives. I hear ALL the sounds. ewww . . . yuck.
Afternoons are particularly harsh in my office. That "post lunch" phenomenon takes place and there is a steady flow in and out of the men's room, followed by a steady flow of aroma into my office. When people do come to see me, they are often greeted by this odor. I used to try to explain the origin of the smell, but now I just let people think it is me. It takes less time that way. Plus, it keeps the return visits to a minimum. :)
All that to say, the saying "Rank has it's privileges" has a whole new meaning.
On top of this amazing title, I have a private office (well, on most days it is private). If people want to see me, that have to PLAN on coming to see me. I am situated sort of "out of the way" so very few fly-bys happen with regard to visitors. I have my very own conference table, my own refrigerator, my own private window overlooking a treed gazebo. (I know you are all waiting for the punch line). All kidding aside, I really do have a nice office.
But in the keeping-me-humble department, my office is situated directly behind the men's restroom . On top of that, my return air vent goes directly into said men's restroom. So everything that happens in there, and I do mean everything, I hear. I hear cell phone conversations (it is surprising how much men talk on their cell phones while doing both #1 and #2). I hear newspaper pages turning. I hear men having arguments with their wives. I hear ALL the sounds. ewww . . . yuck.
Afternoons are particularly harsh in my office. That "post lunch" phenomenon takes place and there is a steady flow in and out of the men's room, followed by a steady flow of aroma into my office. When people do come to see me, they are often greeted by this odor. I used to try to explain the origin of the smell, but now I just let people think it is me. It takes less time that way. Plus, it keeps the return visits to a minimum. :)
All that to say, the saying "Rank has it's privileges" has a whole new meaning.
There's Just This Thing He Does
Sometimes, when I am home, and it is just Mike and I, I act like an idiot. It's not a side of me that many get to see. I know right now that some of you are thinking, "OH CAROL, I have DEFINITELY seen that side of you." But I say back to you, "you are wrong." I am not talking about the side of me that is silly, or funny, or humerous, and hilarious. I am talking off the charts goofy, completely nuts, (picture Tom Cruise-Jerry Maguire-show-me-the-money crazy!) I am so goofy that my sweet husband just cracks up because there really is no other option.
Likewise, there is a side of Mike that few get to see, and I saw it tonight. He was watching "Remember the Titans" a show he has seen SO many times. It was almost the end of the movie, where the Titans are in the locker room, and the white coach tells the black coach that he needs help to beat their opponent. It is a very poignant moment. I looked over at Mike and saw that he had teared up and was smiling from ear to ear.
As the movie continues, the emotion builds as the Titans go on to win the game, and again, I looked over at Mike, but this time he was openly crying, and he was still smiling and wiping the tears as they gently spilled down his cheeks. Slowly, the movie transitions to the very last scene. The Titans, who are all grown up, have all come home for the funeral of their friend. It is the emotional climax of the movie, where people who are watching the movie don't know whether to laugh or cry. I looked over and Mike was still crying, but now he was laughing and crying.
It is THAT side of Mike Jones that made me love him in the first place. He has the most compassionate tender heart. He cries at movies. He hurts for people who are hurting. He has a way of smiling at babies that would make you think it is the first time he has ever seen one. It's that glimpse into his gentle soul that makes me love him.
All that to say, I married well. And every now and then, there's just this thing he does that reminds me why.
Likewise, there is a side of Mike that few get to see, and I saw it tonight. He was watching "Remember the Titans" a show he has seen SO many times. It was almost the end of the movie, where the Titans are in the locker room, and the white coach tells the black coach that he needs help to beat their opponent. It is a very poignant moment. I looked over at Mike and saw that he had teared up and was smiling from ear to ear.
As the movie continues, the emotion builds as the Titans go on to win the game, and again, I looked over at Mike, but this time he was openly crying, and he was still smiling and wiping the tears as they gently spilled down his cheeks. Slowly, the movie transitions to the very last scene. The Titans, who are all grown up, have all come home for the funeral of their friend. It is the emotional climax of the movie, where people who are watching the movie don't know whether to laugh or cry. I looked over and Mike was still crying, but now he was laughing and crying.
It is THAT side of Mike Jones that made me love him in the first place. He has the most compassionate tender heart. He cries at movies. He hurts for people who are hurting. He has a way of smiling at babies that would make you think it is the first time he has ever seen one. It's that glimpse into his gentle soul that makes me love him.
All that to say, I married well. And every now and then, there's just this thing he does that reminds me why.
Don't Like My Butt and I Cannot Lie
If you didn't guess by the title, this is going to be a blog of self-loathing, sort of. I really have never been one to self-loathe. I've never been one to stand in the mirror and lament the shape of my nose, or wish that I had thicker eyelashes. I've never chosen clothing based on what would make my butt look smaller (which is obvious based on some home videos I have watched!) I haven't avoided sleeveless shirts so that no one would notice my wingflaps. I just haven't done it.
Now trust me, I have had more than my share of "fat days." But all in all, I'd say I've always had a fairly good body image.
I'd love to say it is because I have a tremendous sense of self-confidence, but if you know me at all, you know THAT isn't true. I tend to over compensate for my lack of self-confidence with extreme over achieving, so I have my issues.
But for the past few days, I have really just not liked myself. I am miserable when I get dressed in the morning. If I didn't have someplace to go, I would probably just stay in my pajamas. The prospect of getting dressing is somewhat emotionally challenging. I went clothes shopping yesterday, to add to my torture, and nothing looked good. NOTHING. What's totally weird is that I have lost 10 pounds recently, so things should be looser, right?
On top of that, I hate looking in the mirror. Everything seems droopier. My hair, my eyelids, my lips, my bobbly bits (okay, they've been droopier for a long time!). Just in general I'm droopy. Even my personality is droopy. I do not like this poor body image thing at all. How do people live like this all the time?
All that to say, I need someone to play the part of Cher, slap me, and say, "Snap out of it." Or, I need someone to tell clothes designers to remember that some of us are women. :)
Now trust me, I have had more than my share of "fat days." But all in all, I'd say I've always had a fairly good body image.
I'd love to say it is because I have a tremendous sense of self-confidence, but if you know me at all, you know THAT isn't true. I tend to over compensate for my lack of self-confidence with extreme over achieving, so I have my issues.
But for the past few days, I have really just not liked myself. I am miserable when I get dressed in the morning. If I didn't have someplace to go, I would probably just stay in my pajamas. The prospect of getting dressing is somewhat emotionally challenging. I went clothes shopping yesterday, to add to my torture, and nothing looked good. NOTHING. What's totally weird is that I have lost 10 pounds recently, so things should be looser, right?
On top of that, I hate looking in the mirror. Everything seems droopier. My hair, my eyelids, my lips, my bobbly bits (okay, they've been droopier for a long time!). Just in general I'm droopy. Even my personality is droopy. I do not like this poor body image thing at all. How do people live like this all the time?
All that to say, I need someone to play the part of Cher, slap me, and say, "Snap out of it." Or, I need someone to tell clothes designers to remember that some of us are women. :)
Sell This House
If you have received this by email, well, then, don't click on the link. BUT, if you haven't and you live in Georgia, or you know someone moving to Georgia that wants a nice house, check out my beautiful house for sale in Georgia (did I say Georgia enough times?)
http://www.e-powerteam.com/Cumming/Georgia/Homes/Parkstone/Agent/Listing_1769130.html
It's a virtual tour of my house there. I'd sure like to sell it and move all my stuff here. I don't know why I miss my stuff. I guess that is silly. I have everything that really matters to me, right here. But, if I am just being honest, I miss my stuff.
All that to say, Sell this house.
http://www.e-powerteam.com/Cumming/Georgia/Homes/Parkstone/Agent/Listing_1769130.html
It's a virtual tour of my house there. I'd sure like to sell it and move all my stuff here. I don't know why I miss my stuff. I guess that is silly. I have everything that really matters to me, right here. But, if I am just being honest, I miss my stuff.
All that to say, Sell this house.
More on the antichrist
So, I asked my friend "T" today if she thought Obama was the antichrist.
With her little "huh,huh" laugh that she does, she said very quickly, "No."
I said, "Wow, that was fast. How can you be so sure?"
And she said, "Well, the antichrist is supposed to be loved by everyone. Or at least almost everyone. And I don't even like him. So he can't be the antichrist."
All that to say, there you go. A little more insight into the Obama drama.
With her little "huh,huh" laugh that she does, she said very quickly, "No."
I said, "Wow, that was fast. How can you be so sure?"
And she said, "Well, the antichrist is supposed to be loved by everyone. Or at least almost everyone. And I don't even like him. So he can't be the antichrist."
All that to say, there you go. A little more insight into the Obama drama.
Silly Things I Do
This morning, I woke up at 6:00 a.m., pretty much like every morning. I rolled over, looked at Mike, and noticed that he was still breathing softly, eyes closed, apparently still in a deep sleep. Excitedly, I jumped out of bed and got in the shower. I did not do this because I was SOOOOOO excited about starting my day. I did this because I knew that if I got in the shower first, then HE would have to do the squigeeing when he got out of the shower. That's our deal. The last person to shower in the morning has to squigee the shower.
Now, let's analyze that for a second. I forsake (gave up) sleeping in (staying in bed for at least 20 more minutes, maybe 30), just so that I would not have to spend 15 SECONDS squigeeing the shower. How stupid is that? That is lazy whittled to a fine point.
Truthfully, I laughed at myself when I thought about this, and realized I do tons of other things like that. Things that cost me a ton of time, just in an effort to avoid a little work. For example, I will let the dishes stack UP in the sink, and I mean STACK UP just because I don't want to take the 2 minutes it will take me to unload the dishwasher. Plus, when the dishes stack up, the food dries on them, the kitchen gets smelly, I end up handwashing things like forks or spoons. All for the 2 minutes I save by not having to unload the dishwasher. Again, lazy.
Another one? I let junk pile up in my car, because it will take me a few more seconds (like maybe 2 or 3 SECONDS) to get the junk out of my car before I go in my house. So pretty soon, I have a car full of junk. . . half drank fast food drinks, empty bags, crumpled up napkins, books from work, receipts, spare shoes, gym clothes. You get the idea. So, in the end, I have to take 20 or 30 minutes to clean out my car, sort through all the junk, put it all away, and then freshen the interior of my car. More laziness.
All that to say, I think I might be lazy, or at the very least disorganized. Nah. It's lazy. What about you? You know you do something like this too!
Now, let's analyze that for a second. I forsake (gave up) sleeping in (staying in bed for at least 20 more minutes, maybe 30), just so that I would not have to spend 15 SECONDS squigeeing the shower. How stupid is that? That is lazy whittled to a fine point.
Truthfully, I laughed at myself when I thought about this, and realized I do tons of other things like that. Things that cost me a ton of time, just in an effort to avoid a little work. For example, I will let the dishes stack UP in the sink, and I mean STACK UP just because I don't want to take the 2 minutes it will take me to unload the dishwasher. Plus, when the dishes stack up, the food dries on them, the kitchen gets smelly, I end up handwashing things like forks or spoons. All for the 2 minutes I save by not having to unload the dishwasher. Again, lazy.
Another one? I let junk pile up in my car, because it will take me a few more seconds (like maybe 2 or 3 SECONDS) to get the junk out of my car before I go in my house. So pretty soon, I have a car full of junk. . . half drank fast food drinks, empty bags, crumpled up napkins, books from work, receipts, spare shoes, gym clothes. You get the idea. So, in the end, I have to take 20 or 30 minutes to clean out my car, sort through all the junk, put it all away, and then freshen the interior of my car. More laziness.
All that to say, I think I might be lazy, or at the very least disorganized. Nah. It's lazy. What about you? You know you do something like this too!
Obama Bin Laden?
I bet I have gotten 20 emails this week alone telling me that Barack Obama is probably the antichrist. The rest of them have been closely related, but didn't outright say he is the antichrist. At first, I thought these were jokes. That surely people did not believe that he was the antichrist. But alas, I have spoken directly to some of these people, and they really do believe it! Now, I'm not sure who I'm going to vote for yet. I'm trying to vote based on voting records, political stands, etc. But just to be sure I have done my homework, I did a little homework on the antichrist.
Here is the statement made by most of the emails I have received, "According to the book of Revelations, the antichrist will be a man, in his 40's, of muslim decent, and will deceive the nations with persuasive language and will have a massive following and Christ-like appeal . . . the prophecy says that people will flock to his promises of false hope and world peace and when he is in power, he will destroy everything."
Here is what I have to say about that:
First of all, get it right. It isn't the book of Revelations. It is "Revelation" no "s". That's nit-picky, but if you're going to quote the Bible as your means of slandering someone, you should get it right.
Two, don't use the Bible to sow fear. Most people who are spouting the junk have never even read the book of Revelation, but are just simply passing on stuff other people have sent to them. Oh, and by the way have you ever noticed most of the emails going around have no "author." If you feel that strongly about what you're saying, sign it!
Three, there is no use of the word antichrist in the book of Revelation. It is used in the Bible, just not there. The chapter most people are using for the prophecy of the antichrist (and rightly so) is Chapter 13. Read it.
Four, here's a little tidbit that'll surprise you. The Bible does not say that the antichrist will be of muslim decent. Islam was not a religion until 400 years after the book of Revelation was written. But, because it is a book of prophecy, the author could have stated that the antichrist will be of muslim decent, but he didn't.
I will confess, I am not a historian, nor a theologian, and I am sure that I don't have all the answers, and may not even be correct about what I've written here. But I am pretty sure that Barack Obama is not the antichrist. Here is a list of others who have been called the "antichrist." Hitler, Elvis, Bono, Henry Kissinger, Marilyn Manson, almost every pope, You Tube, rock and roll, and Bill Gates.
All that to say, come on people. When Christians say such things, it only makes us look like crazy, mean and malicious people. How about if we love one another and quit trying to figure out who the antichrist is? Oh, and do a little research on the candidates. Then vote based on THAT information. NOT based on silly emails that propagate hate.
Here is the statement made by most of the emails I have received, "According to the book of Revelations, the antichrist will be a man, in his 40's, of muslim decent, and will deceive the nations with persuasive language and will have a massive following and Christ-like appeal . . . the prophecy says that people will flock to his promises of false hope and world peace and when he is in power, he will destroy everything."
Here is what I have to say about that:
First of all, get it right. It isn't the book of Revelations. It is "Revelation" no "s". That's nit-picky, but if you're going to quote the Bible as your means of slandering someone, you should get it right.
Two, don't use the Bible to sow fear. Most people who are spouting the junk have never even read the book of Revelation, but are just simply passing on stuff other people have sent to them. Oh, and by the way have you ever noticed most of the emails going around have no "author." If you feel that strongly about what you're saying, sign it!
Three, there is no use of the word antichrist in the book of Revelation. It is used in the Bible, just not there. The chapter most people are using for the prophecy of the antichrist (and rightly so) is Chapter 13. Read it.
Four, here's a little tidbit that'll surprise you. The Bible does not say that the antichrist will be of muslim decent. Islam was not a religion until 400 years after the book of Revelation was written. But, because it is a book of prophecy, the author could have stated that the antichrist will be of muslim decent, but he didn't.
I will confess, I am not a historian, nor a theologian, and I am sure that I don't have all the answers, and may not even be correct about what I've written here. But I am pretty sure that Barack Obama is not the antichrist. Here is a list of others who have been called the "antichrist." Hitler, Elvis, Bono, Henry Kissinger, Marilyn Manson, almost every pope, You Tube, rock and roll, and Bill Gates.
All that to say, come on people. When Christians say such things, it only makes us look like crazy, mean and malicious people. How about if we love one another and quit trying to figure out who the antichrist is? Oh, and do a little research on the candidates. Then vote based on THAT information. NOT based on silly emails that propagate hate.
Happy Birthday to Me
Yes, that is correct. It is my birthday, and in honor of my birthday, I decided to break my blogging hiatus. I have really been wanting to blog about Barack Obama and the rumor that he is the antichrist, but I will save that for later. Instead, today, I am blogging about my favorite subject, me. (I'm still working on that humility thing apparently).
So, in my lifetime a lot has happened. A LOT! Some good, some great, some not so good, some terrible! Where to start, where to start. Let's see, I think I will start in the "strange but true" category.
So, in my lifetime a lot has happened. A LOT! Some good, some great, some not so good, some terrible! Where to start, where to start. Let's see, I think I will start in the "strange but true" category.
- (Many of you already know this) but I once held the bloody stump of a man's arm that I tripped over in a field across the street from my house.
- I tried out to be a cheerleader three times and never made it. But I did make it to the dance squad, which is very funny because the reason I didn't make cheerleading is because they didn't think I had the coordination for it. HA!
- I once won a disco dance contest.
- I was on my high school golf team.
- I was a championship roller dancer.
- I graduated from college in my thirties with a freaking awesome GPA.
- I was a PTA President.
- I was fired from my job once. I did not like that experience but I did learn a lot from it.
- I have held the following jobs: receptionist, cashier and manager at a movie theater, counselor at a Jewish day camp, secretary, purchasing agent, accounts receivable clerk, office manager, real estate agent, Mother's Day Out director, substitute teacher, web designer, teacher, telephone magazine sales (that was a fun one), Pastor, stall mucker. (Apparently I can't keep a job either. HA!)
- I hate mushrooms, cucumbers and okra.
- I love snap dragons. They are so beautiful.
- I am an avid reader. I love historical fiction. And books that come in series. (that might be part laziness because then I don't have to think about the next book I will read!)
- I often have night terrors where I scream in my sleep. Who knows why? Last night I dreamed I was being held hostage, but was released when a nuclear disaster happened. When I finally found my way back to my family, I hugged my husband and said, "I made an A on my final" and then I woke up. I'm weird.
All that to say, I like my life. Sometimes it is crap. (Can I say crap?) But most of the time, it is pretty great. I have great friends. I have a great family. I have a great job. I have great hair (today), great eyes and a great butt (or so my husband says). I have a great life. So, starting today, in honor of the anniversary of my 29th birthday, I am going to live it greatly.
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