Good news for Michelle

I have high cholesterol and have been taking medicine for at least 10 years - maybe longer. Even with that I never could get my numbers under 200. My HDL (the good kind) is high and that was the only good thing ever about those little digits. My mom had two stents put in this past November so all of a sudden things became more ominous. I had to go back and get my blood work done only four months after the last one. It was my last chance to try and get it down or we were going to have to increase my dosage. I really didn't want to do that -- it's not that good for your liver. So anyway -- I tried again. There isn't a lot to cut out that I ate -- I'm not into fried stuff and I prefer fresh fruit to any brownie or candy bar or cookie. There was only one more thing I could do that I hadn't ever tried. I gave it my best shot and got my results yesterday.

Peoples my total cholesterol was...........176!!!!!!! My goodness gracious sakes alive - it's pretty much a miracle. I doubt it was ever that low in my life. When I first started taking medicine it was over 300. Diet & exercise didn't change it so we knew it was hereditary - thus Zocor. But now -- not just a little bit under 200 mind you. And to what do I owe this success? Just watch TV my friends and you'll know the answer. Good Old Fashioned......... every single morning. I love it. Now I'm just crazy about it!! Try it. You'll like it.

PG Rated Blog - just this once

I love Dave Barry. This is probably the funniest thing I've ever read -- certainly the funniest thing since I can remember (which considering my memory probably isn't saying that much. A serious subject but a hilarious article.

A Journey Into My Colon..And Yours
By Dave Barry, Syndicated Columnist and Comedian

OK. You turned 50.
You know you're supposed to get a colonoscopy.
But you haven't.

Here are your reasons:

1. You've been busy.

2. You don't have a history of cancer in your family.

3. You haven't noticed any problems.

4. You don't want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up your butt.

Let's examine these reasons one at a time. No, wait, let's not. Because you and I both know that the only real reason is No. 4. This is natural. The idea of having another human, even a medical human, becoming deeply involved in what is technically known as your ''behindular zone'' gives you the creeping willies.

I know this because I am like you, except worse. I yield to nobody in the field of being a pathetic weenie medical coward. I become faint and nauseous during even very minor medical procedures, such as making an appointment by phone. It's much worse when I come into physical contact with the medical profession. More than one doctor's office has a dent in the floor caused by my forehead striking it seconds after I got a shot.

In 1997, when I turned 50, everybody told me I should get a colonoscopy. I agreed that I definitely should, but not right away. By following this policy, I reached age 55 without having had a colonoscopy. Then I did something so pathetic and embarrassing that I am frankly ashamed to tell you about it.

What happened was, a giant 40-foot replica of a human colon came to Miami Beach. Really. It's an educational exhibit called the Colossal Colon, and it was on a nationwide tour to promote awareness of colo-rectal cancer. The idea is, you crawl through the Colossal Colon, and you encounter various educational items in there, such as polyps, cancer and hemorrhoids the size of regulation volleyballs, and you go, ''Whoa, I better find out if I contain any of these things,'' and you get a colonoscopy.

If you are as a professional humor writer, and there is a giant colon within a 200-mile radius, you are legally obligated to go see it. So I went to Miami Beach and crawled through the Colossal Colon. I wrote a column about it, making tasteless colon jokes. But I also urged everyone to get a colonoscopy. I even, when I emerged from the Colossal Colon, signed a pledge stating that I would get one.

But I didn't get one. I was a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I was practically a member of Congress.

Five more years passed. I turned 60, and I still hadn't gotten a colonoscopy. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my brother Sam, who is 10 years younger than I am, but more mature. The email was addressed to me and my middle brother, Phil. It said:

`Dear Brothers, ``I went in for a routine colonoscopy and got the dreaded diagnosis: cancer. We're told it's early and that there is a good prognosis that they can get it all out, so, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that. And of course they told me to tell my siblings to get screened. I imagine you both have.''

Um. Well.

First I called Sam. He was hopeful, but scared. We talked for a while, and when we hung up, I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, ``HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BUTT!''

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ''MoviPrep,'' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ''a loose watery bowel movement may result.'' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ''What if I spurt on Andy?'' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was Dancing Queen by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, Dancing Queen has to be the least appropriate.

''You want me to turn it up?'' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

''Ha ha,'' I said.

And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking ``Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine . . .'' . . and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

But my point is this: In addition to being a pathetic medical weenie, I was a complete moron. For more than a decade I avoided getting a procedure that was, essentially, nothing. There was no pain and, except for the MoviPrep, no discomfort. I was risking my life for nothing.

If my brother Sam had been as stupid as I was -- if, when he turned 50, he had ignored all the medical advice and avoided getting screened -- he still would have had cancer. He just wouldn't have known. And by the time he did know -- by the time he felt symptoms -- his situation would have been much, much more serious. But because he was a grown-up, the doctors caught the cancer early, and they operated and took it out. Sam is now recovering and eating what he describes as ''really, really boring food.'' His prognosis is good, and everybody is optimistic, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that.

Which brings us to you, Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or Ms. Over-50-And-Hasn't-Had-a-Colonoscopy. Here's the deal: You either have colo-rectal cancer, or you don't. If you do, a colonoscopy will enable doctors to find it and do something about it. And if you don't have cancer, believe me, it's very reassuring to know you don't. There is no sane reason for you not to have it done.

I am so eager for you to do this that I am going to induce you with an Exclusive Limited Time Offer. If you, after reading this, get a colonoscopy, let me know by sending a self-addressed stamped envelope to Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement, The Miami Herald, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132. I will send you back a certificate, signed by me and suitable for framing if you don't mind framing a cheesy certificate, stating that you are a grown-up who got a colonoscopy. Accompanying this certificate will be a square of limited-edition custom-printed toilet paper with an image of Miss Paris Hilton on it. You may frame this also, or use it in whatever other way you deem fit.

But even if you don't want this inducement, please get a colonoscopy. If I can do it, you can do it. Don't put it off. Just do it.

Random nuggets

It's been Monday all day long. The bright spot was I got to wear blue jeans to work. Not only today, but all week long. Last week I donated $20.00 to the March of Dimes and so got to wear blue jeans. It's called "Blue Jeans for Babies" week. Our rah-rah "reward" the last couple of years is Casual Friday every time we sign a contract worth $100 million. Twice this year we've signed a contract worth one billion dollars and for that -- a whole week of blue jean wearin'. It's funny how such a seemingly little thing makes such a huge difference in my whole thought process about the week. It feels a little less like work for some crazy reason. A little thing, but it makes for big smiles.

I have found another super product that is worth mentioning. Have you tried these?
WONDERFUL is all I can say about them. I've taken carrots and also snow peas to work in them. We have commercial microwaves so they are probably more powerful than the one I have at home but I cooked one serving of baby carrots in a minute and a half. I like my carrots just a little firm -- it was perfect. You can cook meat, vegetables - whatever suits your fancy. You season the food but add no water. Five Stars.

Tonight I made PW's Onion Strings. I felt so virtuous to be doing something that gave the impression of working hard in the kitchen. I don't like onions but the rest of the family does and they loved them. So, another PW recipe tried and loved.

And that's what's on my mind today. Pitiful isn't it?

Of dying cucumbers and Homeland Security...

I avoided it as long as I could. I tried to pretend it wasn't there. I prayed someone would do it for me. I wished for my fairy godmother to wave a wand and the ugliness would be gone.

It didn't happen. It was going to be up to me. Guilt -- the gift that keeps on giving finally got me moving. I cleaned out my refrigerator this afternoon. It was to the point that it was downright frightening to open the door. I half expected something not human to reach out and pull me in to the land where cucumbers go to die a slow green mushy death. There were refried beans in there that I had to hold my breath, take off the lid and dump in one swift move. I watched my front door, breathlessly waiting for it to be kicked down by a swarm of hazmat specialists. Would Homeland Security believe me when I told them that I was not getting ready to launch a wave of biological warfare?

Because it was easier to buy more than to see if you could find it in the black hole that was our refrigerator I have no less than 8 pounds of butter at the moment. I have about 20 kinds of yogurt. And no less that 5 different kinds of hot sauce.

Now I need to go lay down. I feel nauseated. But before that I have to post proof that I did do it. I really did.

Rant

The last two weekends I went shopping. There are very few things I hate more than shopping but the wardrobe has gotten pretty pathetic. So I hit the big sales. I looked. I tried on. I went through the clearance racks.

I was a teenager in the 70's. I lived through the geometric prints & the baby doll tops. In junior high I made the dress I got my school picture taken in. I loved that dress. A royal blue, cowl necked tent dress. It just sounds lovely doesn't it? Only a prepubescent girl should wear such a thing. Fast forward to the 80's. I was pregnant. Twice. Two times I wore maternity clothes. Getting pregnant was very hard for me so I was excitedto be wearing those maternity sacks clothes. Now it's the new millenium. I am not pregnant nor prepubescent. I do not want to relive the 70's nor experience pregnancy again.

Am I the ONLY woman out there that feels this way???? What I am about to show you is frighteningly representative of the choices I found. ALL of these come from the women's section of the stores - not the juniors. Looking for a top to wear with your wardrobe staple, the black pant? How about this: or maybe this:
Maybe you want to wear khaki's and so you could top them with this:

One of the things that was driving this shopping trip was the discovery that I did not have a single dress to my name. Not one. I realized this a few weeks ago when I was getting ready to sing for a funeral. Finding a dress is even more difficult than finding a shirt. What middle aged woman out there would (or should) wear the following: or maybe this:

This is just wrong.

I double checked. I was not shopping in the juniors. It wasn't the costume department. An all out protest is in order. Somebody help me here - can I get an amen?

Blooming

I was a very young new bride the first time I heard the phrase “Bloom Where You Are Planted.” I heard it in the context of a class I was in called “The Preacher’s Wife”. We were being instructed as to the vagaries of the life we were preparing ourselves for and the certainty that we would not go and live in one place for the rest of our lives like those with secular jobs could do if they chose. Somehow the message came across (and probably through no fault of the teacher) of a jaw-set, grim determination that I should make the best of it. I don’t know about you but when I hear the phrase “make the best of it” I am not overcome with joyful anticipation.

Recently I heard a phrase that I liked a whole lot better - “Bloom with Abandon”. When the kids were little we would take them to the park to play and no matter how many times we’d go they were always ready to go again. They’d run to the car and jump in without a fuss and watch out the window for the first glimpse of their green oasis. They could hardly wait for the car to stop before they were tugging at seatbelts and trying to get out. They obeyed the rules that they wait until I opened the door for them, but only just barely. I would get around to their side, open the door and out they would jump. They would squeal and run as fast as their little legs could carry them to the object of their affection at the moment. There was not a care in the world in their minds – it was time to run and jump and scream and laugh all done at top speed with as much energy as they possessed. Pure unbridled joy. I noticed that it never mattered what was going on in our lives or even in the car minutes before we arrived. They could have been scolded, they could be fighting with each other, they could have just been to the doctor and gotten a shot but looking out that car window and seeing the park erased all of that in a second.

That’s the kind of emotion I think God wants to invoke in us – as we near Him, as we grow in our understanding of the Spirit’s role as our comforter, our help, as we learn to love Jesus more – he wants us to jump out of the mundane and into the joy that he promises. Our Father longs to see us run and jump and squeal with joy as we run to him. Throw all caution to the wind and revel in his love and his presence. That’s what blooming with abandon means to me -- leaving all cares behind, eagerly reaching forward to grow in his awareness and in a sense of responsibility to share the incredible love he has for us.

When I would take the kids to the park in those days long past I would open the door and let them run while I would shut the door, lean against the car, and stand and watch for a second. I’d take that minute just to enjoy their enthusiasm, to rejoice in the knowledge that I had given them something that made them so happy. I like to think that it brings a smile to the Lord’s face when I do the same with this life he’s given me.

Come let us sing with joy for the Lord. Let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let’s come before Him with thanksgiving and extol Him with music and song. Psalm 95: 1-2

Gotta get your feet wet

This morning as I was reading my Bible I came across a section of scripture that caused me to recall something I had run across recently. I have no clue where that was so I can't give appropriate credit. Which is probably just as well since I can't actually recall what it was I read either so I'd surely mangle whatever it was I was trying to relay.

So we'll just talk about the things I saw this morning recognizing the source as the Word of God. In Joshua chapter 3 the Israelite nation is getting ready to begin the process of taking the land of Canaan as their own. A couple of lessons spoke to me. First Joshua tells the people that they are to position themselves so that they are following the ark of the covenant because "then you will know which way to go, since you have never been this way before." Many times in my life I have been asked to go somewhere I had never been before - those journeys were so much less frightful when I remembered to keep the Lord in my sights. Because life is played out one day at a time we never really know where we are going do we? Just keep the Lord in your sight and it's okay - we can rest in the assurance that no where we are being led (or dragged kicking and screaming as the case may be)is a place to be feared because God is already there.

Secondly I was reminded that the priests went ahead of the Israelites when they came to the Jordan river. Joshua writes that the river was at flood stages. I remember when I was maybe 10 years old that the Arkansas river flooded my hometown. Mom and us kids were at home and Daddy was working. He came home in the middle of the morning and told us to pile in the car he was going to take us to see something. We drove out to the highway and parked along the shoulder with about 30% of the population of the town and stood there looking at the river. It was almost out of its banks - a dirty, raging, swirling tide of water roaring past. There was all sorts of debris being pushed along. That is what I remember when I think of a river at flood stages. The LORD tells Joshua that the priests are to go ahead of the people carrying the ark of the covenant. The waters of the Jordan river are going to be cut off but only AFTER the priests step into the water. I don't know about you but I would certainly have much preferred that I stand at a safe distance from the river's edge and God could part it, dry up the land underneath and then I would cross through. Their salvation came after they got their feet wet.

I confess I've done everything I could to avoid the water on many occasions. I wonder what I would have learned had I just gone ahead and stepped in? What blessings did I rob myself of? What opportunities for richer faith? What amazing things did God want to do in my life?

Joshua 3:1-17

We are not.......

Once upon a time when I was young, arrogant and judgemental there was a common theme in my thoughts. If I saw someone who appeared to be suffering the consequences of bad choices (mind you I had no real idea as to what their reality was) my initial thoughts were generally along the lines of "We are not those kind of people." Mmm...sounds somewhat familiar.

"The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers — or even like this tax collector." (Luke 18:11)

I believed that doing the right thing would get the right results. It was a simple math equation. Here is what I learned:

It ain't necessarily so.

I remember the moment I had this epiphany. It was during the dark night of Matt's teen years. He'd made a bad decision and the consequences were harsh. We decided that he could spend the night at the detention center rather than bail him out. I was heartbroken, confused, scared and mad. Visiting hours were starting soon and people were beginning to file in...waiting for their chance to see their loved one. I sat there and thought to myself "I don't belong here with these kind of people." I pulled myself tighter into myself as though that were enough to draw a line of demarcation between "those people" and myself. The Holy Spirit spoke to me and removed the blinders from my eyes. I was at the county jail because my child was behind those bars. Me. I was "that kind of people". I was no different. I had a whole lot more in the way of material blessings than some of those waiting. I had more education. I had more of a support group. But I was there because someone I loved was in jail.

The ground at the foot of the cross is level. I would do well to remember that.

Be careful what you ask for

Last night Tyler and I visited on the phone. This kid is worrying me to death. He is such an adrenaline junkie. He's thinking he would like to find a logging job for the summer. LOGGING!! I tried in my very best mom voice to let him know I didn't care if he was almost twenty-two he was most certainly NOT going to do that!! It's the most dangerous job in the world, don't you know?? Well, of course he knows - that's what is so appealing - to know that any false move, any bad decision could mean your death -- that's (and I quote) "awesome".

Clearly he's had some serious brain damage somewhere along the way that we know nothing about. He's going to be the death of ME is what's going to happen. I told him that he needed to find a nice girl and think about settling down. Oh, he's waaaaay too young to be thinking about that! He's got a lot of living left to do!! I told him that I was already married when I was his age. His response? "You are serious! Are you SERIOUS?" As if I had just told him I was scheduled on the next space flight.

I told him that at the rate all three of my children were going, I would be dead before I had any grandkids. He said "Don't worry, mom." Since we've had this discussion, oh maybe one or two times before (I'm persistent) I knew what was going to follow -- "You are young, mom and I'm going to settle down before long, yada, yada, yada."

This time - not so much. Here is what I heard just seconds after my brain had already began formulating the reply to what I knew he was going to say.

"I'll go out this very evening, mom, and make sure you have a grandbaby in about nine months."

Oh yes he did say that. He doesn't have to worry about me bringing that subject up again for a while.

Don't make me fly up there, son.

Found

I just watched a great movie -- August Rush. I don't remember hearing a thing about it until a friend told me about it the other day. My prime movie watching time is somewhere between 6 and 8 on Saturday mornings. That's the only time I can be reasonably certain I won't fall asleep before the opening credits. If you haven't seen it, rent it -- it is really worthwhile. I don't want to spoil it if you haven't seen it but the story is of a very musically gifted boy who is shaped and driven by the music he hears. It's music that is played out all around him in nature and in the 'noise' of city life. No one seems to be able to hear the music though because they don't have their ears attuned. He doesn't know how, but somehow he knows that the music will bring him home.

How often I miss the music in my busy-ness. How often I hear the noise of distraction and the urgent and miss the music of the important. Jesus has given me a song to sing and I must not forget that. I must keep singing. It's the music that will bring me home.

There is one incredible line in the movie that sums up what we all want. The young boy is asked if he could choose any name in the whole world what would he choose his name to be. He replies "Found". Isn't that what we all long for?

Great News!!! We have been. Can I get an amen?

Great lines

For your consideration--some great quotes from equally as great movies. Can you guess where they came from?

Time marches on and sooner or later you realize it is marchin' across your face.

I may be on the devil's hit-list, but I'm on God's mailing list.

I know a man who has a van and he will take you back to wherever you came from!

Sit down and shut up, will ya? Try not to live up to all my expectations.

I don't know what's worse, church or jail.

Face it, girls, I'm older and I have more insurance.

This is not a tragedy. A tragedy is three men trapped in a mine, or police dogs used in Birmingham.

In a good shoe, I wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, I buy a size eight.

Luther said I could learn some things from you. I already know how to drink.

If you mention my name, you'll be selling your kidneys to pay for your lawsuit. Cult.

I'm not as sweet as I used to be.

What did you ever do to change the world?

You remember the day I went out for cigarettes and didn't come back? You must have noticed.

I'm too old for this...

Not only are you a cheat, you're a gutless cheat as well.

I'm gonna get out of the car and drop you like third period French.

I wouldn't be afraid of death if I was you. I'd be more afraid of driving in rush hour traffic.

All right. Now I have complied with your every request, would you agree?

This is the best part of my day.

My wife left me. I was upset. I fell into a self-destructive pattern.
If released, is it likely you'd fall back into a similar pattern?
She already left me once. I don't think she'd do it again just for kicks.

You're not trying to draw a psycho pension! You really are crazy!

Endo here has forgotten more about dispensing pain than you and I will ever know.

Winter in Dallas

I grew up in Colorado and have experienced life with all four seasons. You pretty much knew when winter came it was going to be winter for a few months. It was certainly possible for there to be an unseasonably warm day here and there - but it was winter -- no doubt.

Here? Not so much. We have something that more closely resembles hot summer and cooler summer....with a surprise thrown in there every now and then. I kid. Just a little bit though. It can get cold here and frankly this cold is colder than anything I remember in Colorado. Just as humid hot is much hotter than dry hot, wet humid cold is far colder than dry cold. The crazy thing about our weather is it really is likely to change day to day - like the old joke "You don't like the weather? Just wait a bit - it'll change."

Until we went to see Tyler in December I did not believe I missed the cold and the snow one bit. Oh how beautiful it was though! I'm mostly glad I don't have to experience it much but there is a beauty in winter that is unique to itself. Monday night this week it snowed here. What I would call the first really true snow storm we've had in the 15 years I have lived here. We have gotten a little covering of snow every once in a while...but it's very brief and seldom amounts to much. But this was snow, folks! Real honest to goodness big huge wet flakes that were coming down fast and beautiful. I actually drove around at 11:00 at night just to experience it. It was so quiet and so bright white. That was Monday night. Tuesday afternoon it was something like 67. See what I mean? Needless to say the snow was gone by the time I got home from work. It's supposed to snow again tonight. It's been trying to for several hours and there's a little on the ground but mostly it's been raining all day. Things will freeze I'm sure and that means driving to work will be a real joy for everyone.

I didn't think to take pictures Monday night when it was snowing but I did take some when I got up the next morning. You can tell it had already melted significantly but it was still pretty.

Oh for a faith that will not shrink......

I have never tried to do this before so I don't know if it will work but this is truly one of the most incredibly humbling things I have ever watched in my life. I want to have a faith that strong - a trust that firm - a love that pure. I don't want to walk away unchanged.



God be praised!

Oh no, she didn't!!

If you will look over there on my sidebar where it says something like "about me" or "profile"...I can't remember and I don't want to go looking at the moment. ANYWAY, the very last sentence contains a very, very important fact about yours truly.

Oh yes.

And today I got an email from my niece. She attached a picture that she wanted to share with me.

Oh. My. Goodness. I. AM. SO. JEALOUS.

Political ads

Political advertising has gotten out of hand. Can I get a witness? Every day I come home from work to find my message light blinking like crazy. I've got 8 messages! Every last stinking one is a plea to vote for somebody - from County Commissioner to our country's next President. They are all pretty much alike -- each touts the virtues of a particular candidate and they always end the same way "I'm (insert candidate's name) and I approve this message."

One day last week I got back to my desk after lunch to discover I had a voice mail waiting. I figured it was going to be yet another URGENT URGENT need for an attorney immediately because the entire future of the company hangs on their particular deal. But no. That was not the message waiting for me this time.

"Hello, Mom! What are we having for dinner tonight? I hope it's something good. And I really hope you don't want me to cook it. This is Katie Scott and I approve this message."

You've gotta love it.

More weekend gleanings

Earlier I shared what I learned that worship was -- during the second session we learned what worship was not. This session had 3 points as well --

• Worship is not of the flesh. The intended target for our worship is not us. If our vertical relationship isn't right the horizontal relationship isn't benefitted. How many of our decisions though are based on the flesh rather than the spirit? Just the day to day decisions of your life -- is the deciding factor based on your wants to's or God's?


• Worship is not a fortress to be guarded and defended. Here's where are personal likes fit in. It's okay to prefer one worship style over another but fortresses keep people out and we should be building freeways instead. Insisting that worship be done the way I like it is not pleasing to God.


• Worship should not be forsaken. I personally grew up knowing Hebrews 10:25 by heart...we were "not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together as was the habit of some." Our casual attitudes toward worship and attendance do not bring the kind of connection that encourages the binding of our hearts to God's. We miss such a blessing when we don't join our brothers & sisters in entering the holy presence.

Worship isn't a place we go - it's our response to the most amazing gift we could ever imagine and never deserve.

Spell check doesn' t always work......

Today was a busy day at work. It's the end of the month and so I've got a bunch of stuff to do to close the books on February. The systems have opened to adjust our forecast and I've got to get all that figured out. It's performance review time and I have been scheduling, rescheduling, cancelling and rescheduling again so many reviews I have lost track. All this on top of the regular goings on of a busy law office. Today was the busiest. I had to get a new position opened up so that we can fill a position in Sao Paulo. Only we have a new generation of this particular application and of course there are glitches. These glitches wouldn't allow me to do anything in the system. Completely shut out. I had a deadline that was really urgent and I had spent well over an hour on a job that should have taken me less than 5 minutes. I was getting so frustrated and firing off emails and making calls trying to find someone who could give me a work-around for this situation. I had multiple people in the mix and everyone recognizing the problem but no idea as to the remedy. It was tense. And then I got an email that made me laugh out loud. I still had the problem but it's amazing what laughter will do for your soul! The sender had apologized for the problem and assured me that they were working furiously to figure out how to fix the problem. The final sentence was the corker.

"I am so sorry for any incontinence this may have caused you."

There very nearly was some incontinence happening after I read that. Somebody needs to invent word error check. But then again, maybe not.

Weekend

This weekend was our annual Praise Team retreat. It was very good. Last year we had a more nuts & bolts weekend where we did breathing exercises, etc. It was good and necessary and we learned a lot. Not that I have yet to master "back breathing". For goodness sake. Proper stance, (or sitting on the edge of the chair), blend, right notes, timing, dynamics...and now back breathing? I just consider it a success when I don't belt out something when I'm supposed to be quiet. Like singing away, praising God loudly only to be elbowed because the song slide clearly says "Men only".

I'm expecting a pink slip any day now.

But, back to this year. This year the worship leader from a church in Garland or Dallas or somewhere over there east of 75 came and spoke to us on worship. What it is, what it isn't and finally what it could be if we got the first two of those figured out. We didn't do any technical things--just a lot of worshipping and praising and breaking out into groups to share our thoughts about what we were learning. Each of his three sessions had three main points (I think that is scriptural, is it not?). The first night we talked about what worship and what it is -- they were three "T's".

Worship is:

• Transcendent
• Transparent
• Transformational

I think we can all see that worship is so much more above and beyond and over and past anything we could possibly imagine (that's transcendent). And it's easy to see the natural progression that when we have truly worshipped (our spirit touching God's spirit) we are transformed. You can't walk away from a manifestation of God without being changed. The one that I have been so insistent on for years now is that we must be transparent. But living a transparent life is so uncomfortable. It is downright frightening - you are so vulnerable and that's not a place we like to visit, let alone camp. It's a tragedy when people come into our assembly and they are hurting and alone and they leave our assembly after an hour and a half and they are still hurting and alone.

I don't think that is what God had in mind when he planned for us to live in community. I am challenged to lower my mask. No matter how scary it is -- even if it's for a moment I pray God give me the wisdom and discernment and recognition of the opportunity.

God bless your day --- may you recognize the blessing and then go out and share it!

It's a journey, folks

I had a co-worker today ask me how I could forgive my ex-husband. It caused me to stop and think about it for a minute. Truth is, lots of days I don't feel one bit of forgiveness. I have found that during those times the only prayer I can offer is "Lord I don't want to forgive him and so I'm going to have to rely on you to get me there. I don't even want to want to. " I think over the years I have learned that forgiveness is a journey, not a destination. Sometimes I'm at a dead stop. I've even put it in reverse a time or two. I've gotten off the road and taken detours. There are potholes and dips. What matters, I think, is that I'm on the road.

Any success I've had (and it's often pitifully small) is because of who I want to be and not because he deserves it. If I focus on that -- who I want to be -- it's easier. Focusing on the pain of what he did keeps me captive.

I have learned too that feeling isn't necessary for doing.

I can't do either one of them without God doing it through me...in spite of me.

Joyous Trip (But I hate the getting there part)

I don't know if I've mentioned before that I am not a good traveler. I just flat out don't like it. I like being home. I don't like long car trips. I especially don't like flying. Ooooh boy, no, I don't like that. I was actually 40+ years old before I even got on a plane. I had never lived anywhere that was actually an easily accessible option and I didn't know anyone that I would fly to see. So...didn't need to conquer that fear, thank you very much.

Then I moved to the Dallas area from the panhandle. Some of the people I hold closest to my heart are in the panhandle. I'm here. They are there. I can drive 6 hours to go see them. Or I can drive 45 minutes to Love Field and get to Amarillo in 50 minutes. I still have to drive a couple of hours to get to my friends - but I'm way ahead of the ball game if I climb on board that flying death trap. So one day, armed with a prescription for two fairly potent little pills from the good doctor I walked onto a Southwest jet and flew to Amarillo. Amazingly enough I got there. And it was so fast!! Slowly I began to manage the dread (and without drugs I might add!). As long as it's Southwest and preferably within an hour of home I manage it just fine now. I don't know that I'll ever be perfectly comfortable - but I'm not a total basket case anymore either.

SO this weekend was the Fiftieth wedding anniversary of these people and I absolutely had to be there. I didn't think too much about it as I purchased the tickets for my oldest son and myself, just looked forward to being with a family I love dearly. The closer to departure date we got the more nervous I became because they were predicting wintry-like precipitation. Morning of the flight dawned cold but no snow/rain/sleet. I'm thinking it's going to be okay. We needed to be at the airport by 8:30 a.m. at the very latest and didn't. By about 15 minutes. I had decided to check my luggage because of the liquid restrictions and that whole hassle. We loaded our luggage onto the little platform and alarm bells started ringing and a computer voice begins calling out "Late Check In!! Late Check In!" That does nothing at all for my rising anxiety. We line up to go through the security checkpoint, along with at least half of the population of the DFW metroplex. I'm eyeing the clock and thinking "AUGH!! What are we doing to do if we miss our flight?" It's my turn and I stick my purse in the bucket along with my shoes and walk through the gate. All's well. Oops. No it's not. "BAG CHECK PLEASE, BAG CHECK!" "Step over here ma'am we're going to have to open your purse." A small trial size tube of Mary Kay hand lotion. He gives me a talking to and I'm nodding yes sir, yes sir all the time thinking "We're going to miss our flight! Take the lotion if you want, just let me go!" Then we are off.

Just to maximize my anxiety the flight devils arranged for our gate to be the very last one. We have got to run. I don't mean walk fast. I mean we have to run. About the time we rounded the corner of gates 4, 5 & 6 I'm thinking to myself "let there be an EMT in this crowd because I just may well keel over." I can see our gate on the horizon...I do mean horizon and I can see Matt in the distance as well. To get my mind off my breathless panting I tried diverting my thoughts and it occured to me, “Great! I’m not going to have time to buy a magazine and what am I going to divert my completely unrealistic but terror-filled thoughts with now?” This was followed quickly by the realization that I really, really needed to go to the bathroom and there wasn’t time. We got to the gate to see the tail end of our “A” group walking down the concourse. Whew. We'd made it. I’ve never been on an airplane bathroom before but I just really don’t think I’m going to be able to make it all the way to Amarillo. I ask Matt if he’s ever been on one before. He says “Once. I threw up all over that thing.”

We find a row where he can sit by the window and I can sit by the aisle. I begin nervously rummaging through the seat pocket because I know I’m going to have to look at something or I’ll start thinking about being thousands of feet up in the air. Just as nerve racking to me is the fact that I am in an enclosed area and I CANNOT GET OUT. I'm stuck with a copy of “Sky Mall” but it's something. Then to just really cap off the experience the pilot comes on the speaker and ratchets up the anxiety level several notches: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Southwest Flight 1452. We are going to have turbulent weather today and so will not be turning off the seatbelt signs. You will not be allowed to get up to use the restrooms and our flight attendants will not be serving drinks. We do apologize but it’s for your safety that we ask you to remain buckled in for the entirety of the trip today.” Oh good grief. Turbulent weather. No magazine. Can’t use the bathroom. Can it get any worse? My prayers became a little more urgent and a whole lot more streamlined. “Please, please, please let us get there, Lord.” I'm here to tell you it worked, internet peoples! We got to 35,000 feet and the pilot came on again and said “It looks like it’s going to be much smoother than anticipated and while we ask you to keep your seat belts on if you don’t need to move about, you can use the restrooms and our flight attendants will be moving through the aisles to take your drink orders. I looked down the aisle to see the bathroom available and bolted. I am only 5’3” and while I could stand to lose 20 pounds I’m not large. I don’t know how anyone of any size at all could fit into that tiny closet. But fit in I did. Just as I sat myself down on that little airplane port-a-potty we hit a patch of turbulence.

I did not holler out loud because I just would not do that. That would just be too embarrassing! But my honest to goodness thoughts were “Oh NO!!! I’m going to meet my Lord with my pants down.”

And that is my story of Southwest Flight 1452.