Keeping Score

Anatomically correct hamster on white and lavender

Oh friend! 

It has been a week.  Every time I turned around, someone was doing something weird, surprising, or both. You need to come over and have tea soon.

Monday morning found me with errands to do, so I assigned work to my youngest and left her at the kitchen table with instructions to remain seated until her math was completed.  I returned home, put the kettle on and we sat sipping tea correcting her assignment.

Math question: How many minutes are in one day?  Write a multiplication question and show your answer.

Me: "Darling, I see you have the answer for your question, 1440 minutes in a day.  The answer is correct but the work isn’t there…. How did you get your answer?"

Child: (looks at me blankly, as though I’m missing something) "Well, I just asked Echo."

Me: look of amazement, mouth open

Child:  "What? It was way easier Mummy, really."

Life 1, Karen 0.

Tuesday morning I was out the door early to take a youngling to physical therapy.  Rehearsing the situation won’t get us that far, but even I was surprised when I found myself entering the PT room to tell the physical therapist I found her rude.  No one was more mortified than my daughter who had turned scarlet and actually had her hand over her face.  That took some sorting out I assure you.

Life 2, Karen 0, Physical Therapist 10 (she phoned and apologized bless her sweet pagan soul.)

Mid-week I heard someone was trying to scalp tickets to the Homecoming dance. 

The home-school Homecoming dance. 

The Christian home-school Homecoming dance.   

Yep.  I want that to sink in, so we are pausing there.   

Not disparaging the kids I love the most but Christian home-school dances aren’t generally the hottest ticket in town. That was until this year.  When my girlfriend told me that someone was trying to move a dance ticket for an extra $25 I knew I was witnessing something from the book of Revelation.   Not clear if it was a trumpet, lamp stand or a horse but whatever it was clear knocked me over in shock.  Maybe my Canadian roots are showing but trying to make an extra $25 off someone’s lack of planning seems a bit capitalistic even for the right wing conservative crowd.  

That was Wednesday.

No wait!  I was rude to someone that afternoon!I had to text her later to apologize for being such a troll.

Life 3, Karen -1

Thursday started with a minorly major catastrophe that I brought upon myself.  If you were intending to bless a child by doing their laundry, you might be forgiven for taking the clothes in the laundry basket (on top of the washing machine might I add) and sticking them in the wash. It wasn’t as if I damaged anything by doing her laundry, unlike last week when I threw a purple shirt in with the whites and turned everything mauve. Apparently, the clothes in the aforementioned laundry basket were clean and I had washed them a second time much to my beasts' consternation.  She came into the room to give me a hug, “Mummy, I totally release you from needing to do my laundry.  You are nice to me but that is why I do my own, so it doesn’t go missing.”   I smiled and bit my lower lip. 

Actually, my girl does her laundry because some years ago I had a laundry crisis wherein almost every pair of underpants in the house went awol.  When I found them 24 hours later in a laundry basket in my car underneath a garbage bag of coats on the way to the junk store, I realized that for sanity’s sake, my girls should start doing their own laundry, or risk public humiliation. To be released from laundry duty by a child who started her journey in cloth diapers was a bit galling bless her precious twice washed socks.    

Life 4, Karen 0 (I had 3 cookies at tea time when no one was looking.)

Friday was all about biology.  In a conversation not to be repeated, nor the participants named, it turns out that a hamsters’ testicles do not reside under its arm pits. Not much to report except that by the end of the day, I had texted my husband diagrams of hamster privates.

Life 5, Karen 0, Husband 3 (because he didn’t ask for a divorce) Hamster 2

I could continue throughout the weekend and mention the gossip train that sideswiped my Saturday.  Then I would need to confess swearing at the bird on Sunday when it tried to jump into the washing machine.  Repeated failure gets boring and uncomfortable, especially when it is my own. 

And so, dear friend, life is rushing along, precious moment after moment.  I have no idea if I am effecting change, staying afloat or succeeding from one day to the next.  Do you ever feel like you are moving quickly but getting nowhere?

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"Come unto Me and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down,

Thy head upon My breast."

I came to Jesus as I was,

Weary and worn and sad;

I found in Him a resting-place,

And He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"Behold, I freely give

The living water; thirsty one,

Stoop down and drink and live."

I came to Jesus, and I drank

Of that life-giving stream.

My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,

And now I live in Him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"I am this dark world's Light.

Look unto Me; thy morn shall rise

And all thy day be bright."

I looked to Jesus, and I found

In Him my Star, my Sun;

And in that Light of Life I'll walk

Till traveling days are done.

Thank goodness we are not alone.  We have the friendship of one who is infinitely wise and eternally compassionate.  He understands the mundane, sees our failures and blesses our efforts.  I pray, that as you make your way through this week, you might know his presence in the ridiculous, the raw and the raging.

I’m praying for you this week,

xoxKaren   

**For those of you that don’t home-school, imagine someone trying to charge an extra $20 to get into the community center’s Christmas craft bazaar to buy crochet Kleenex holders.  It seemed a pretty bold move for a rather selective group of folk.

Plans and Puffins

Behold the noble Puffin...

I was sitting with a group of ladies when I heard my phone ring.  Picking it up, I plugged my left ear and said, "Hello?"  There was quite a bit of swearing going on the other end of the line.  Swearing and yelling to be more specific, so I thought it would be wise to move outside with my phone before one of the tender homeschooling mama’s I was sitting beside heard what my friend was suggesting her ex-husband do with his new motorbike.  “Hold on babe,” I muttered.  “Let me go outside so we can chat better.”  Truth was we were nowhere near chatting.  My friend had a lot more poison to get out of her soul before chatting would be possible.  I walked out the door into a well-timed gust of wet. It was cold and grey, a Northwest fall special.  The rain was falling heavily and splashing up from the pavement in order to soak my feet twice and the wind was blowing the whole mess sideways.  I headed for an alcove and waited for a break in the storm, figuratively speaking.  

“Yes, I know. No, I’m not.  No, you didn’t.  No, you shouldn’t…”  A running list of affirmations and directives fell from my mouth as I tried to keep pace with the crescendo of disappointment I was hearing.  I practiced deep breathing in order to keep my blood pressure down, my dear friend was really letting loose and I realized that something had upset her deeply, this was more than an unfortunate incident, this was a wounded heart.  

We talked.  I shivered. We talked some more.  Finally, the crux of the issue became clear, “I spent so much time... snup... days, years, to have things end like this…why did I even bother?  Snup! Where did God go?  I’m not even sure I heard him in the first place. Snup! Snup!”
“Umm….Seriously, are you hiccuping right now?  Did you just cry until you have the hiccups?”
“Snup!” My friend said some rude words while crying and hiccuping some more.  

“I was tracking with you, until the hiccuping.  Then I got distracted.  Do you need to hold your breath?  Can I go inside now?  You can’t hiccup and yell at the same time can you?”  I like to believe I exhibit a strong balance of compassion and practicality. As it turns out, my friend was not finished hiccuping or venting and we talked for a while longer.  Disappointment with God figured heavily in the conversation.  

I got off the phone 20 minutes later feeling blue.  Letting the wind propel me, I walked the parking lot while I prayerfully handed the entire incident back over to the Creator.  One of the best spiritual disciplines I was taught was to spend time after difficult conversations in prayer.   Processing disappointment with God is hard work and I have found it helpful to spend time acknowledging my inadequacy in front of the one who created both puffins and accountants.  The former being something strange I really like, a swimming bird, and the latter being something I really appreciate, a human who likes math, yet want to stay far away from. 

While I acknowledge that disappointment has made me more compassionate, I still dislike the experience.  Disappointment is defined as the feeling of sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one's hopes or expectations.  My biggest problem in dealing with disappointment is that I need to acknowledge that life isn’t about me.  It is amazing how often I want the world to cater to my expectations.  Equally as staggering is the amount of times the world refuses to play along.  It’s rough.

At the center of it all lays the issue of faith.  Am I able, when life deviates far from what I expect, when it causes unbearable suffering, to process the disappointment honestly with my faith intact?  I confess I found that difficult when I was my own highest authority.  Without a creator, we cease to have purpose or meaning beyond ourselves.  Puffins are a weird bird that decided one day it would be great to go swimming and accountants have a lot to answer for in choosing that whole math thing.  

So I’m thinking about you if you are processing disappointment.  If you are one of the many, who look at your life and wonder if there is a way forward after failure, or if you are simply tired because so much of the journey seems to tilt uphill.  I pray that you might come to know Jesus listens carefully to those whose prayers go unanswered.  That although your well-crafted plans have come to naught, His plans for your eternal good, so different from your own, are moving forward, fashioned in his faithfulness.

Praying for all of us this week,

xoxKaren

A Cacophony of Clothing

Yep.  Sold in a store near you.  Someone wanted money for this. 

Hello Friend,

How are you holding?  Fall is settling into my corner and I miss our walks by the seaside.  They helped me make sense of the world, which seems to be hurling toward the book of Revelation at a break neck pace.  As a Canadian, American politics was hard to understand with your tutelage, without it, I’m simply lost.  I was keeping pace until that Moochi fellow reenacted the Fall of Icarus with such staggering devotion.  At that point I became overwhelmed.  Though it was barely 10 weeks ago the tone of my surroundings have changed so much it has altered my prayer life.  I offer the Lord fewer solutions now, realizing we have crossed the event horizon of social incivility.  Media of all forms has become a blood sport and I find myself limiting my exposure to its war cry.  I am spending more time with those I love and enjoying the care those relationships provide. 

It’s nice.   

My recreational time has been overtaken by the demands of raising teenagers, which was how I ended up at the mall recently.  Any of my children will tell you going to a shopping mall is a gift of sacrificial love on my part.   I simply detest the places.  One of my children however, spontaneously acquired the shopping gene, so to prove my undying love, we spent an afternoon window shopping.  

This is where it gets complicated.  I love spending time with my girls.  I enjoy discussing life issues, reshaping problems as opportunities for hope and encouraging their souls to look for joy.  This parenting goal is challenged the moment I set foot in a store whose objective is to clothe my children.  Clothe did I say?  I’m sorry, I should have been more accurate.  What would you call it if a clothing factory vomited on the floor and then offered to place its fabric remnants on your child?  That’s the word I’m looking for… 

This week I have decided to become a fashion blogger, because frankly, Christian mommy blogging has its limitations.  What makes it all the more awesome is the fact I’m radically unqualified to blog about fashion.  My friends will tell you my fashion style is rumpled or nonexistent.  This means, anything I will say is based on observation and sheer ignorance.  I’m excited as I feel I meet the standard set by the internet at large: opinionated and uninformed.  

The first thing I noticed was the vibe of the store.  The place possessed all the despair and broken dreams a sweat shop can afford.  Cheap and sad, most of the clothing hailed from the same unimaginative muse.  Like the $20 barmaid Halloween costume, the clothing was dipped in a tawdry layer of sexuality that was both bizarre and depressing.  I wandered aimlessly looking for something … anything pretty.  I realized I was in the wrong place.  This store had given up flattering for flattening.  Skeins of spandex spun into every garment so that young forms and curves could be forced into the shape of a garish doll, identical and tired. It was like a physical manifestation of a teenage identity crisis.    

I walked to outer wear which was a wise move on my part.  My mood picked up immeasurably.  Walking around in disbelief I suddenly realized I was feeling better.  The wailing of cheap sex had been silenced by racks and racks of fuzzy faux fur.  Unclear of what I was seeing, I asked my daughter, “What exactly is all this stuff?”   “Coats Mum!” was the reply.  “Get out! This is amazing!”  I was rewarded with an eye roll.  So in the vein of a fashionista, I would like to introduce you to a few of my favorite coats this fall season. 

Though not as stylish as velour tracksuits, I see potential here. 

I call this one “Low Carb Cookie Monster” in honour of all my friends on the Keto diet. Do you recall how smug you felt when you realized Cookie was a puppet and was therefore unable to eat the cookies he threw about the room?  Not only is this coat really ugly and shapeless, it is the colour of Cookie Monster himself, minus the fuzz length.  How many humans look good in this shade of blue?   I’m not certain but if you know what comes after the phrase “C is for cookie…” this is your coat. 

This could only be improved if it came with a cinnamon scented liner. 

This garment was brought out for fall and I call it Pumpkin Spice Muppet.  There really aren’t words to describe it.  Think Ewok meets Beaker’s hair and you are working your way there.  I spent a lot of time staring at this one trying to imagine who would look at home in it.  I decided that our hamster James would do it justice though the sizing would be a problem.  A Sphynx cat might also appreciate it as a bed.  The makers of this fabric are laughing their way to the bank.  Back in my day we used this stuff as craft material.  We cut it into long rectangles, put two googly eyes on it and sold them as caterpillars at the church bazaar.   Clearly the coat visionary didn’t know this fabric wasn’t made to become clothing.  

To understand why I like the next coat you have to meet a member of my family.  My daughter found him at the dollar store and fell instantly in love with him “because he was so soft and fuzzy.”  His sole function is to come on family trips and have his picture taken.  Meet Scruffles: this is Scruffles at Lake Tahoe this summer.  

Fortunately Scruffles didn't need to get into the water because I don't think he can swim. 

Imagine my surprise when I saw Scruffles in coat form! My shock was matched only by my middle child who screamed and launched herself at the coat rack.  It took a while to get her put of there and a complicated discussion ensued as to how many Scruffles were harmed in the making of these garments.  I made a mental note never to take that child shopping again. 

Scruffles family

We wandered some more, bought sugar dipped dough and chatted.  By the time we returned home I was tired, not physically but mentally.  I was unclear how to convey the importance of self-worth when so much of the clothing available to this generation is worth-less.  Unclear where to find self-respect when it has been exchanged for rabid self-righteousness.  Unclear how to encourage thoughtful discussion when many would rather rage than engage and venting anger has become the norm.  

Where was Jesus in the whole mess?

Funny, when I type that, a whole bunch of Christianese phrases jump to mind.  “He is high and lifted up.”  “Ruling and reigning.” “Large and in charge” and a whole myriad of phrases that aren’t all together helpful.  As the world gets noisier and troubles increase, we are faced with a choice.  From where will we pull our strength?  Will we pop a phrase in our computer and hit enter and come before the Google god?  Or will we hit our knees and come before God himself?  With what, will we clothe ourselves?  Will we put on articles provided by the world, faux fury and frustration? Or will we hold to the simple gospel that every person is found wanting and clothe ourselves in the grace Jesus provides? 

It isn’t easy.  

So I’m praying for you dear friend.  While so many are in a season of loss and grief that you will be able to come alongside in compassion and understanding as opposed to offering trite soundbite sentiments.  That you would have the strength to bridge the spaces between your neighbors and listen with understanding.  

Thinking of you this week,


xoxKaren