A Man without Pretension

Well, this post is for my husband. The other day Ben was relaying to me that when he walked to the hospital from the physician parking lot he noticed a piece of a motor muffler on the ground. He thought how tacky is that and then realized the muffler was from his Volkswagon Jetta. Poor fellow, his once cherry red car is now pink and it sounds like a motorcycle (but doesn't have the cool factor). If he rode a bicycle to work he would be at least considered Green, but when his car puffs black smoke clouds I think the tree huggers' eyes tear if not from the fumes but from his flagrant disregard to Mother Earth. Ben is practical and hasn't complained that he can't open his trunk and air conditioning consists of rolling down his windows. He doesn't seem to notice the keyed exterior or punched in door, the broken side mirror or the tail light patch job. He pours a gallon of oil into the car a month and has compounded it to a soft luster though the car has been ungratefully wicked. He is a man of incredible loyalty and forgiveness. His car has received the Biblical maxim of 70 times 7. I love him for that. Yes, Ben would happily drive a four door truck or a sleek Jaguar, but it won't make him more successful. He wins hands down for the man without pretension.

(Ben, when you read this- may you blush the color of your car.)

Staying up to 1am Books

As a good book is a precious commodity, I would highly recommend this series by Bill Bright and Jack Cavanaugh.


I recently read these fiction books on the Great Awakening in America. You may be thinking dullsville. Don't be fooled.



These are fast paced stories that do contain some brutality, but alive with interest and true workings of the Spirit in a time gone by. My favorite two were Fire and Fury.

Swim:Though It Be but 59 Degrees

Jane enjoyed watching the older three swim.

Skinny buddies.

Alex was the smallest swimmer in the advanced class.

Emily must have gypsy blood...she has always been a wanderer. She even strayed from her guppy class in the pool.

Lined up for the diving board.

JUMP.

Catch me.

The face of distress. His toes were blistered and bleeding from the pool bottom. He wore socks in the pool after that.

At the park behind the pool. Jane on the conveyor belt slide. If you talk while you are going down, it will cause you to stutter. And if you stick your tongue out, it will waggle back and forth.

Smelling the flowers leaves pollen on her face.

Tax Dollars at Work

Hefty property taxes here pay for an odd assortment of things. During the year each neighborhood has large trash day once a month. The city contracts "free" pick-up for your old mustard plaid, scratchy sofa and your lawn chairs that got used as sleds in the winter. It is a nice service and if you are motivated you will find treasures if you go around the scheduled neighborhoods. Consequently the city has less to pick up because the junk gets recycled into new homes.

Taxes also pay for leaf clean up in the fall. You rake all your leaves into the street and bulldozers come and scrape them up off the pavement. I've seen piles of leaves taller than men. It is "free" wholesome entertainment for the kids.

This week we discovered a new "free" activity. The library summer reading program. Before I say more, this library system has won the best library in the nation in years past. It is obvious why as the library boasts amazing facilities, an exhaustive audio-visual selection, a used bookstore, and you can even check out framed art to hang on your walls. That aside, all four kids have caught the Reading Bug. Yes, even Jane. She has the privilege of listening to books and winning prizes. Fritz already won a stuffed bug which he named Bluey. The girls are incredibly pleased to be included in the preschool program with lady bug stickers and buggy folders. Since my children when unoccupied metamorphose into pesty bugs I think the summer reading game was aptly titled. Now they are antsy for me to finish my post so they can claim their tax dollar prizes. Should I tell them Daddy and Mommy paid 15.99 for each of those stuffed mosquitoes? No, let them be stung by property taxes when they are older.

What it might be like...

After weeks of negotiating and uncertainty, we are thrilled to be signed. We will be moving next year to Victoria, Texas. If I was writing a visitor guide, I would tell you to expect Texas-style shabbiness off of Highway 59. But as you remove yourself off the main thoroughfare, you will find pockets of lovely homes and the Guadalupe river which pumps life through the city. The river's energy yanked us in. We knew our kayak would be used and enjoyed here. When not paddling the river, there are three golf courses and the ocean is a mere hour away. Victoria is only 63,000, but the shopping is relatively broad. Enter Starbucks and get an iced mocha latte then meander down to Target to purchase a bathing suit for the pool at the country club. While you are thinking of water you remember you want to replace the faucet in the kitchen so you head into Lowes and if you can't find the right thing you try Home Depot. But faucets lead you to look at bathtubs and you remember your towels are frayed in too many places and your guests are coming next week. You head into Bed, Bath and Beyond and realize you need another kid to carry the bags out. You borrow a neighbor's kid till 5pm and decide with the extra pair of hands you can stop in at Kohls for a pair of sheets for the guest room, Academy for an anchor for the kayak, Hobby Lobby for a frame for that unflattering graduation photo, Hancock Fabrics for a chintz to make a dust ruffle. You don't really enjoy shopping but you know the refrigerator is empty and the borrowed kid meter is about to expire so you make one last stop at HEB. There you pick up some fresh tortillas, sushi and gourmet cheese. As the groceries are checked out you realize you left your wallet at the fabric store, but since it is such a small town the manager has already called your husband's office and they pass on your cell phone number. You wonder what is ringing in your purse since you still aren't use to having a modern day convenience. Ahh, yes, my rhinestone phone. "Hello." You listen as the store manager says he will send his sister over with your wallet. In a few minutes due to no 5 o'clock traffic, you embarrassingly pay for your dinner. You are thankful to be living in Victoria, but you wonder why you still can't shop at thrift stores and trash hunt. Times use to be so much simpler.

Calamity Jane

As is so often the case, if you can step back from the trials and stresses of life you will find a fabulous story. Be warned, I hardly could have made up the things you are about to read. My dearest Jane is now cursed with bad luck...7 years in fact. Last night, she threw a 12 inch make-up mirror down the staircase. Perhaps she didn't like her reflection. Or maybe vanity has little to do with it. As the mirror was circular perhaps Jane thought it would bounce like a ball. Nonetheless, her bad luck started the morning before. Around 9am I found her scooping water out of the toilet with her plastic pink teapot and pouring that germ-infested water into teacups so she could quench her thirst. At noon she came to me with a uncapped glue stick in her chubby hand smelling much like what she held. Jane had spread the white paste all over her face. I am convinced she thought it was chapstick. Not knowing moderation, she reasoned if a little is good, a lot is much better. In the afternoon Jane had successfully tattooed her body with ballpoint pen and marker. Now I am convinced she is on the path of self-destruction. She must indeed have a personal insecurity. First she tries to poison herself with thousands of unseen microbes. Next she masks her face in white gunk. Lastly she resorts to body art to get some attention around here. Pobrecita! Being the last of four children is devastatingly difficult. Calamity Jane refuses to take the hand she was dealt. Her 2 year old scheming succeeded, she has my undivided attention and deepest sympathy for what her future might hold.

Precious Pictures

Maiden Voyage

A Little Golden Book Moment

"There once was a little girl who was always and forever asking questions: 'How do birds fly?...Why can't I touch the sky?...What makes flowers grow?...Where do snowflakes come from?'

One day, when the little girl was wandering about thinking up new questions, she saw something lying on a table.

When she picked it up, she saw that it was a picture of a baby...She ran to show her mother what she had found.

'Who is it?' the little girl asked.

'Can't you guess?' replied her mother.

'No,' said the little girl. 'Have I ever seen this little baby?'

'Yes. In a way, you use to see her every single day.' "

After spending the morning searching for the missing baby, she runs back to her mother.

"'Mommy, I know where the baby went!'

'You do?' said her mother, pretending to look all around the room. 'Where is she?'

'Here I am!' the little girl said, and she ran and jumped into her mother's arms, feeling very pleased with herself!"




Illustrated by Eloise Wilkin, a favorite from my childhood. This morning I felt like I was living this little golden book. As I uploaded these pictures of the girls, I was astounded at how thin Emily's face has grown and how much older Jane looks. Where did the babies go?

A Must See!

Circling the globe. I received this from Saudi and the subtitles are in Chinese, but the interview is in English. This video link is a young man's testimony in trusting God's goodness and perfect plan. I won't give away any more...watch it.

http://www.wretch.cc/blog/churchinlove&article_id=17028224???,

The Complexities of Life

Better to love God and die unknown than to love the world and be a hero; better to be content with poverty than to die a slave to wealth; better to have taken some risks and lost than to have done nothing and succeeded at it. -Erwin W. Lutzer

Arriving back in Michigan gave me space to stretch. Our once shrinky-dink house is noticeably bigger. Being away I learned that I am particularly glad that our forks don't crumple when we try to cut our meat. I have a renewed appreciation for the things of beauty in our home. The smoky brown pots in our Houston condo repulsed my artistic temperament. Though I'd never claim to be a gifted cook, even my better meals looked so unappetizing. And boy, do I love that we don't have shared walls where you can hear the neighbor tell her suite mate that the hot water for the shower is gone AGAIN. And more importantly, that the neighbors can't hear Emily shriek when fast-fingered Jane steals her sister's cookie. Your fear rises that the four episodes in the last half hour will prompt some well-intentioned soul to call CPS. When you turn down the covers in the evening and CPS has still not pounded on the door, you exhale and mentally thank God that he answered your prayer to make the landlord's ears deaf. In Nashville we couldn't hang hangers straight in the closet with the door closed; the next month the Texas-size walk-in-closets doubled our square footage. Instead of a jumble of suitcases we also had two dressers. And one of them had four drawers, one for each child. (What comes to mind is the Japanese men in Seinfeld sleeping in the ponderous dresser in Kramer's apartment.) This one though spacious, was only suitable for their clothes. I was thankful nonetheless.

The trip made me think how spoiled I am. I have grown accustom to a certain standard of living and have no desire to downsize our home or sacrifice our conveniences. I know that somewhere the standard has to stop, otherwise, I fear I could become a slave of my possessions. But there is no Biblical guideline that says you now have two cows, ten earthen jugs, a three room house so don't acquire anything else. Rather we know God fills the godly man's house with rare and beautiful treasures. And God is a God of Abundance, and he always gives us more than we deserve. I am still working on being faithful with what I have been entrusted. I am somewhat scared to be hurdled into another stage of life.


When we returned home, my heart became anxious. Where are we suppose to be for the future?

While away, despite the unexpected stress, we loved the mild winter, visiting with friends and family and the chance to explore options for next year. Ben took four interviews and it has stimulated a lot of thought. If only God's calling was unmistakable?

Last night at church I was very refreshed when the pastor was going through Ephesians 1:15-23. I was reminded how to pray. I must pray for spiritual perception, first and foremost so I might know Him better and the rest follows. Scripture is beautifully simple. I have been so burdened with complexities that weren't mine to carry. My job is to know God. The difficult part to that is it will take me the rest of my life. Time is of no essence to the Eternal. He who planned the world has already planned our future.

Wordless recap